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I D M 1 N i 



<ft"H 



THE VALE €F IIJMUEL 



-If I1EII BE It SfiJIM-f» s 

,< rjp^f.,)-, jg ntran^fi— ~3tTA,ng-fix than action." 



NE W-YOJ. .: : 

PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL. -'V 0~.ir A >l . 



ADVERTISEMENT, 

Before the story of -- Idomea'' 9 was finished, some parts of 
it were published bjr a friend In a weekly paper, for the pur- 
poses of i'iiYJsioa. The same friend took out a copy-right* and 
deposited the title page, with Itsjoaotto, in. the office of the 
clerk of the district where the instrument was procured, A 
copy of tli@ same mstrosieai was placed in the hands of a well 
taown counsellor-at-law residing in the same district, and, in 
case of a full edition* will appear in the usual manner ; tlik. 
impression is considered merely &@ & proof. 



*, Douglas^ Printer, M Ann Street. 






PEEFA CE. 

"IdomeiT; or the Vale of Yumurl/ 5 is a story -which,, 
on account of its subject and tendency, not only admits 
of a preface., but absolutely demands one. 

To such, as read for -mere amusement, it may seem 5 
perhapsj ©f little value ; but the physician and physiolo- 
gist, or the theologlst and metaphysician., may, perhajSj 
be induced to look at it more than once j because every 
one of its pictures is drawn and coloured from nature j 
and of the truth of " The Confessions," those who read 
them may be as well assured as of the beatings of their 
owe hearts. 

There are few deeds within the power of mortal per- 
petration., which excite more grief and horror, than sui- 
cide ; and though lightly passed over oy the thoughtless^ 
lbeeause of its frequent occurrence., no one who reflects or 
feeb at all can deem it a subject unworthy of inquiry ov 
attention. 

To see, as it were, the inmost Goal of one who bore nil 
the impulse and torture of self-murder without perishing-* 
is what can very seldom be done : Very few mortals^ ia- 
fdeed, have memories strong enough to retain a distinci 
| Impression of past suffering ; and few, although possessed 
J qf such, memories, have the power of so describing their 
i . -,/m. ; : , i.-Li!;:- l |-ieLi.". i ! H £0 mnkc them apparent to another. 

SQ = = 



■ Wl PREFACE, 

To say nothing of anxiety respecting a future existence, 
iiow Intense mast be the anguish which, can entirely 
overcome our natural hopes and love of life ! and how 
much, keener still the torment which can surmount our 
fear of that dismal and repulsive process which, in the 
present state of things, death must ever involve. 
' The elegant Greek,. or the Remap who became his im- 
itator, might easily resolve on a change of being: a form 
cold, but still beautiful, was laid on a fragrant pile, aad 
covered with flowers and perfumes ; a vivid flame dissol- 
ved what was still lovely ; while the pure unsullied ashes, 
in an urn. of. some precious material, were kept, td be 
pressed to the heart of some friendly survivor, who be- 
lieved (and perhaps with reason), that the dear spirit, or 
its manes, was still witness of his devotion.® 

In some . instances, even — as was the case with the 
pious Artemisia, the ashes of the once adored' were swal- 
lowed inf the same cup which had touched his lips while 

* The Greeks attributed four distinct parts to man: — the 
body, which is resolved to dust; file soul, which, as they 
imagined, passed to Tartarus ox to the Elysian fields, ac» 
" ehmmgio its merits; the image which inhabited the infer- 
nal vestibule ; and the shade which wandered about the se- 
pulchre. This last they were accustomed to invoice three 
times, and libations were poured out to this- as well as to the 
manes or gods who were the genii of the dead, and had the 
care of their ashes and wandering shades. — See u Voyages d 3 
AnUru>r. ,f This note will also hi found in li Zopbiel, ok thu 
Bride of Seven," , . 

, f- fe ef^oaeinagt remember that the monument creeled by 
Artemisia te her : : usband, the beautiful Mausolus, was con- 
sidered one of the seven wonders: of the world, km dtuut 
Ms mkee. in her wine, and berfcjjiritjtwo years later, follov/- 
ed-Ms whom she lm& so much loved. 




PREFACE- tfg 

still warm and ecstatic; in the hope that these only re- 
anains might mingle with the blood which had glowed m 
the beauty of his presence. 

But, as we live now, reptiles and rottenness must he 
thoughts synonymous with death, And how many beau- 
tiful forms have., voluntarily, been given oyer, even ta 
these 9 merely to escape from a present misery, too intense 
to he long endured. 

However self-immolation may he made fascinating by 
philosophers, let tho3e who meditate on a deed so dread- 
ful in itself and its consequences,- be restrained, if possi- 
ble, by looking at the a Confessions 55 ' of Idomen, Lei 
them observe the excess of her pain r and the nature and 
process of its eure. r 

I must here Ire permitted to wander a little from my 
subject. This nineteenth century is called,, by 7nany r 
€e ike age of improvement ;" a ihe great developer of inhl* 
led/ 3 " the age of morality and of 'religion?* (Heaven grant 
that the .eulogy may he made true, if not exaclly so at 
present*) Much is said about (S uliliiy^ out (let me most, 
humbly ask), of what utility is any thing on earth, unless 
it can be made conducive to the "virtue and happiness of 
earth's inhabitants ? 

* Godwin, in Ms _ Si Life of Mary Wolstoncroft, J, makes 
an excellent observation on a similar subject. Tliia woman, 
excellent in herself , though mistaJten in her viewa of tfis world, 
■vas ones induced to an. attempt nS ^elf-destruction. VJounH- 
c-d by the perfidy of one she luid loved^ aad truat ed^ h oy mi. 
i";ei , y"hsca«nfi .so extreme thai no ray of hopo cetinvJU I*> glow 
*.':,* J.: 1 !. ; lisil bniivui IViiUrunad her own dark design, ?jid ah: 
vj\x:i afterwards one of the most happ./ of moi-EaJj. 



#4 



^111 PBEFAGfi** 

The beings of this sphere come into an existence, on 
it, in a state of unqualified helplessness* , No infant could 
long survive his birth, unless " Love" stood near to pre- 
serve him. The new-horn infant may be likened to Hope 
— the newly-made coise to Despair. Should the form; 
nourished in hope be consigned, wtifamght of, to hope's 
opposite? — Without love, the iaifanjt must perish; with- 
out love, the corse must become not only " what the liv- 
ing fear/' but what the living sometimes cannot touch 
without danger of a most dreadfal diseafje.* 

Dissolved by a pure flame > the earthly dwelling of a 
soul which must he immortal •#£]] join, immediately, that 
celestial matter in which the planets move. How far 
preferable, therefore, is flame, to either earth or water, 
for the giving of " dust to ; du3t } ,s as the sacred writings 
enjoin 1 

When every stream of this cc Next World" lias been 
navigated, and when roads are cut through all its forests, 
it may be that some being, even of this hemisphere, may 
abstract himself, a little, from the charms of gold, ease 
and notoriety; and turn his power and reason to the 
Mndly purpose of saving the fonas of those he loves from 
what even thought dares not dwell upon, A beautiful 
custom may be thus revived, though Idomen and her story 
3ae forgotten. 

* A young surgeon known to the ■writer of these remarks, 
wns several weeks very ill, and narrowly escaped with his 
3ife, in consequence of something received into li is watem 
fnrough & scratch of his hand, virile employed ia the uccss- 
isary though very horrid process of akzcrtiutf ^ decer- red £-•!- 
low cseature. 



KREFAC33, ix 

To the fact of the swallowing and subsequent delivery 
frozn poison, (exactly as related in a The Confessions/-*) 
there is onc 3 or more., slill living, who can bear -witness ; 
a circumstance which^ (taken in connection with the 
prayer preceding the deed,) very strongly induces a "belief 
in the immediate agency of such unseen delegates, as 
may well be supposed to operate i.a the complicated me- 
chanism of nature. 
? How far any mortal may be influenced or acted on try 

BuCft In v 151 Die agcura. as aic suii^rcu VJ JL/CIIJ TO CAtU ;(. 

their powers, Iioly or unhallowed, is a subject for an in- 
terest the most profound. 

The most wonderful and beneficent intelligence which 
has ever y-et appeared upon earth, is said to have uttered 
this exclamation : <e Thinkest thou not, if I should pray 
to my Father, that he would send me, at this moment,. 
legions of angels ? y> 

Tliis is certainly enough to sanction, Xo the adorers of 

if- 

Him who thus hath spoken, a belief in unseen protec- 
tors. 

The more powerful and expanded the mind of a mortal 
may be, the more sensible it becomes oT the influence of 
iftteiligcncics independent of itself. In support of this 
assertion, passages may be brought from the lives of those 
who are culled iC men of genius^ while every religion of 
which the records are saved from oblivion,, will present,. 
of this influence, a proof still more potent Indeed, the 
vercy title of <£ inan of Q'enius/' could have been derived 
from BQthhi!. 1 ' e Sl.'/: than thnt belief in t'ood -Rail evil p'tniij.. 



j, -PREFACE. 

(or, as Christians call them, angels), in. which the classic 
eouatries believed. 

A desperate criminal resorts sometimes to the cord, or 
to 'the dagger, either to eseape from corporeal pain, or to 
revenge himself on sucli as he knows or believes will ex- 
ult in his torment or disgrace.; but, generally speaking, 
it Trail be found that persons of tender and generous dis- 
positions are those most in danger of self-destruction^ 

Alas! for such persons, if they cast aside spiritual aid 
and trust to what is called "their own reasoning pow- 
ers 3 ' ! No intelligence which an earthly form can enve- 
lope, was ever strong enough to depend entirely on itself, 
in every distressing emergency. 

No mortal (at least none capable of great actions,) 
was evermore cc reasonable" than Washington, of Ame- 
rica ; yet, it is said that even he was once kaowa. to de- 
spair,! A friend, at the moment when he would have 

* Suicides often leave behind them such memorials and 
vestiges, as cause them to seem, more worthy than most of 
the compeers who survive them. 

f A crisis also in the life of Peier the Great of Russia ex- 
emplifies in an equal degree, that no mortal can trust to him- 
self. _ > 

-This sovereign, by his " own reasoning -powers," had ac- 
quired firmness and self-denial enough to disguise himself 
and labour, for years, as a poor mechanic, to effect & favor- 
ite design ; but when this design was more than half effected, 
the mere danger of seeing it prematurely blasted was suffi- 
cient to deprive him of those very c < reasoning powers" 
which had formed it : hy hazarding a battle with the .Svodf - 
he would have rushed to certain destruction. What enved 
bun ? the entreaties of a once poor peasant girL whom he 
had espoused? was there no heavenly ruornjn. •• : yn.-- >/,'< f"' '' 
■<~See Voltaire's Life of Charles XII. w 



PEEP ACE, III 

vnshed to inerrable death, held the bridle of his war- 
horse, and drew him gently from the temptation. Was. 
this friend, or was he not, commissioned by some hea- 
venly being-? Can any mortal answer this question '? 

Many vciy useful persons there are, vfho can conceive 
of no delight-higher than the one afforded by their daily 
meals 5 or that common creative process, the mystery and 
sublimity of which is. entirely lost sight of in their gross- 
ness. For snc?i as these, suicide is never to be. feared* 
Nay, even the flesh of a suicide, in. case of an emergency 
m hanger, would be eaten by them "with as little emotion 
as they would feel in •wringing tine glossy neck of a dove.. 
Persons Eke these, if they ca,% think at (dl 3 are very lrable 
to he atheists," and ¥/eE may they adopt the belief of 
atheists | because, feeling in themselves so little spirit to 
ascend, they may very naturally suppose that "clod to 
cloi 3i will be the last of them. 

Others there are, more nearly allhd io ilizir crcaior^RO 
find or imagine in some moiilaL, a resemblance to Deity, 
and adore according to their own conceptions. Such, in 
case of losing the object so chosen and endowed, are in 
greet danger of suicide; if bereaved hy death, they has- 
ten to follow and rejoin; if, as sometimes mast happen, 
they find or suppose themselves deceived or betrayed, 
thciu tortures become so severe, that they are glad to- rush 
frcir. the cruelty of earth, and to throw- themselves upoj. 
the mer cry of Him' who made them; far better would it be 
to. bear, and await the relief of hm wisdom; f.Ji after iOA 
;.- ; -. (■■ ... ];-. i!--- -■■:;''; -./hi.t hw: :-:ij' one doiiu io merit a}:sr- 
lest and immediate happiness? 



ill PREFACE, 

Let those who arejcapable of discerning their god in a 
mortal, avert both eyes and ears from the fallacies and 
falsehoods of the audacious — the delights of their souls 
are such as cannot be even faintly conceived hy the ut- 
f erers of cold and narrow speculations j neither can their 
sufferings, which most often preponderate., be soothed 01 
»pitied by such as never felt them. 

Those there are, who., from loss of happiness, become 
sick at the light of the sun. Let such Be content to suf- 
fer a little, before they resolve on a deed which has once 
made them shudder* Let them cling, as it were, to the 
sandals of an unseen father,, who cannot disapprove their 
adoration. However intense may he the cold and dark- 
ness of their despondency, it will as surely pass away, if 
they can only bear it awhile, as that flowers and verdure 
Will spring from those sods of Canada, which are seen 
crushed and hidden with snow-drifts ; or that night and 
clouds must give place to those heavens of gold and azure 
which show, in bold relief, themamey and palm-tree of 
Cuba. 

. .The protection and support of inteUigeneies, or beings 
^unknown and superior to themselves* is needful to all 
who.canhve! 

The preceding reflections have "been first presented, 
because the being who offers them believes, in the inmost 
depths of her heart, that the soothing and direction/ of 
such, feelings as sometimes impel to self-immolation, wpuld 
add more to the sum of earthly happiness, than even the 
breaking of the bonds of those blades wh© labour undep 



. PREFACE* Jcili 

•masters,- On, the state in whieh our thoughts can be 
kept, depends our principal enjoyment. Many have so 
•far relied on this conviction, as to suppose an equal share 
©f happiness in the bosom of every son and daughter of 
Eva,- the first taster of discontent,, Upon this, philoso- 
phers must decide. Incompetent to meddle with any 
great political question, the relatress of the story of Ido- 
mea can only say, that the happiness of the first pair, "be- 
fore their expulsion from their native garden, can seldom 
fee more fully realised than on a flourishing coffee estate. 
Where the sable labourers among its fruits and flowers, 
are directed by ■wisdom and benevolence* 

The peace and plenty depicted in the little domain of 
Balcony in the epilogue of the story, is not an eiaggera- 
tion :■ the same effects may be produced hj any man of 
Moderate fortune- if -endowed "with the same taste and 
character as the one represented.* 

Mot only slavery, but servitude, of all kinds, seems, at. 
first sight, unjust and' offensive; but how avoid ill— 
Were the hopes of the alchymist realised, even gold could 
mot buy us food ,* and could a perfect equality he 1 esta- 
blished among all people, who. would dress for us our 
food when procured?. Were every individual perfectly 

* That excessive quickness and luxuriance of vegetation 
which, at first, tempted many to exchange commerce for 
agriculture, can, however, only be found where the forests 
are newly felled. The earth,' when laid bare to the sun- 
beams," and 'tortured for the wants of many, becomes, even 
within the tropics, exhausted, ere many years are flown e 
From the wilderness alone ' sin an immediate slysium be 
realised. 



u ftm and espial/ 1 every* raifvidkal would 'scoa fee &x 
mom wretched than slaves are now, even; with a baft 
toaster. Arts •would-' cease., and' barbarism defatee tie 
fairest countries; many even -would grown and' die j for 
who could loaf endure the- severe and sordid toil which 
wouM fallen every individual* if condemui; mnmshiei,, 
.rmrily to- supply the daily 'wants of his Gwn'iiMim I ' " 
It may be saf^ that, in-* state of the perfect equality 
mentioned^ persons would- feba themselves 1 into bands, 
and, % turns, assist ' ea&fc -«s&«f. ' If s% fe "would soon 'be 
'perceived that 'ssme could think., and organisey -white 
•others eoiild do nothing but toil' raider their- direction. 
'This difference onceunderstoocl,all ; ideao£ external eqb&- 
ility,must> of eoorse,. give immediate plaee-lo It 

fh< endeavouring to give' happiness to- those- "who- are 
-said to bear the image of Deity, as much attention must 
be given to their inclinations -and capacities; as to- these 
•of inferior animals. ■ " 

A dolphin 'Cannot endure" the air-; and am eagle must 
fiie in the limpid waves of the Bahamas. Between oae 
and another of those descended from the first-mistress of 
Paradise,, ; there is said to- he fall as much difference as 
between some beautiful milk-white 'courser and the ruddy 
contented groom who washes his hoofs or breads bis flow- 
ing mane.- . 

The. prettj flying-fist, which sometimes. eomes ? as it 
ware, to welcome & vessel to the tropics^ ventures often 
out ©if. its native element* on excursions of pleasure or 
beaeficence ; kit the slightest hart will kill him s ami he 



HgEF&CE* :XF 

mpst $odn retina --$o\ his -own -silvery -Jkiid r ©E Ms"wings 
<wlll.be. dry. sad ''Useless. Is it -not ■often, -.tlras with the- 
izni&ds of ^philosophers • and philanthropists ? Tired -of ' a 
universe which almost bounds their 'vision, they are ftia- 
£o soar-to -a piirer-and.-moie charming Tegion 3 but ■hairing'' 
Elsea.just high enough to see there is .something still be- 
yond, their, powers for flight are exhausted, and badbtcr- 
&irth they must descend. 

. -Mo mortal ever moved i?pdn this -aether sphere, more- 
{benevolent^ -or less selfish, and crueL, than Bartolomeo r 
de las CJasas; -yet, lie it "was. who .first proposed and ef- 
•feetoH .the bringing over -the roctensof bkcls P (wlw-wem 
already -slaves to move of their &tm cmourj) to-be Ike slaves- 
also -of white -men* 

The natives -of -Cuba, as well as the gentle and -highly* 
«ivilized"Peruviai^ -weptj^epmed^and ^perished beneath-? 
those falling -fesks .imposed, by the -avarice of Spain, f 

* According to every account, no form of government of 
which, any records are preserved, could possibly have been-: 
more favourable to virtue and happiness than that of Peru,-- 
Before the conquest of Pizarro. The mildness and excel- 
lence of its laws and customs, both public and 'private, were 
such as it is pleasing to contemplate. An exception to this 
mildness consisted in that penalty to "which were subjected 
the " Tirgins of the Sun," who lived in a gimi-Jarniannes to 
that of the Vestals of ancient Rome. Their vow's, however, 
were bo seldom broken, that long lives might be passed 
without a single instance of the infliction of this penalty. — 
The magnificence of public works within the Peruvian em- 
pire, gave evidence both of wisdom and industry. One in> 
mense road from Quito to Cusco, a distance of fifteen -hun- 
dred English miles, .was raised above the rest of the country- 
and furnished with buildings convenient for travellers. Yet 
those who toiled cheerfully for 'their sovereign and pxiests,. 



XVi PREFACE. \ 

while beneath those self -same tasks, the limbs of the nti* 
§ro became rounder, and the ivory of his inouth. ]?ras 
shown in smiles. This was enough to satisfy him, who 
well might be termed a true and guileless bearer of the 
crucifix, that the change he had caused was not a bad 
one. By signs like these alone, can the intentions of 
heaven or nature be made known to humanity. 

Nourished for many years by the labours of ebony fin- 
gers, no one 6an possibly feel for the negro a sympathy 
more pure and intense than the writer of these observa- 
tions. The same has lived many days and weeks entirely., 
as it were, (or rather as it is,) at their mercy ; the same 
has assisted 'at the birth of many, and, of some, closed the 
eyes with her own hands s ere the flowery sods hid them 
forever; the same has responded to -their evening ori- 
sons ; the same has given out ribands and beads for their 
dances j the same' has knelt to heaven, at the dreadful 
sound of the lash, and prayed, in an agony, to the God of 
mercy and of justice. The sound of prayer was nightly? 
the notes of festivity were frequent, and the echo of the 
last seldom heard ; otherwise, who but a fiend could en- 
dure to live long in the midst of them ? . f 

Whites are stillhought and sold in Asia, to. say nothing 
of that servitude or slavery which every poor person is 
condemned to suffer. 

Neither is servitude confined to the poor alone., except, 

who assisted with their own hands, could not live beneatli 
tlie control of men who had given them treachery in return 
for good faith and confidence,— See notes to " Lea incasJ* 
byMannontel. 



PItEFACE. XVll 

Meed, In the sense that every son of Eva Is poor. As 
regards the subject of individual toil, the greatest of mor- 
tals are more on. a level with .the most humble, than is, 
by any means., supposed or understood. " By the sweat of 
thy brow shalt thou eat bread," was the first curse im- 
posed; by pains mhj shalt thou taste pleasure, is the law 
which no mortal ean evade.* 

A planter in the midst of five hundred sable vassals, 
must either toil almost as. severely as either" of them, or 
derive little benefit from their assistance. 

Without the labour of queens and princesses, many 
of the heroes of antiquity must have gone without gar- 
ments or ornaments. 

In the present, age, (despite of the improved state of 
■manufacture,) a young queen or princess, even, must do 
much towards the arrangements of her own habiliments, 
and go patiently through, marty-a weary process, when- 
ever she may wish to appear in the full splendour of her 
beauty ; because a delicate taste or perception of the 
beautiful is the gift of so very few (exeept, indeed, excel- 
lent artists,) that every la'dy is disfigured who relies solely 
on her " tire-women.' 9 

According to an excellent historian., poor Mary, Queen 

* Lady Morgan, in a little work entitled " The Boudoir," 
mentions her surprise, when a very^ young girl, at finding an 
English Duchess (whom she had visited a little too early), 
with hammer and nails in her hands, ascending a ladder to 
fasten up some classic wreaths which v/ere to ornament her 
rooms for the evening. Many attendants were about her, 
bat none of thai" had ^ufi?.cicnt understanding to relieve her 
<o>f a t&sk so irksome. 



XVI11 PREFACE* 

•Scots, took " much paifts ,p to preserve a velvet ...dress, 
merely for the adornment of a death foreseen to be ine- 
vitable. 

It is the common error of every inferior intelligence,, or 
order of beings, to suppose those a little above them have 
nothing to do; jet even the creator and Ms delegates are 
known to us only by their deeds and employments. 

Would to heaven and to the nature of things that pain 
was not the lot of any mortal! — were all persons just, 
kind and beneficent, even slavery itself would lie desira- 
ble. 

Could those principles be inculcated, iww 9 which du= 
ring " the dark ages," were by a few, absolutely acted an 3 
a greater improvement would be wrought in this world 
than has been. ■ effected by all the lectures and works on 
-education which have appeared during the last semi-cen- 
tury. Could it always Tbe held disgraceful to hurt a 
person thrown by heaven or circumstance in our power; 
could it always be made a rule to spare a fallen enemy ; 
could it always be -considered as beneath the hand warm- 
ed by " gentle blood," to hurt anything defenceless 5 — could 
these thoughts and feelings be thoroughly understood ami 
generally diffused, dependence of all kinds would cease 
to be misery, and that on which it is said, se hangs all the 
law and the gospel," would be practical as the division of 
one flowery-meadow from another 1 then, indeed, would 
. |he kingdom of heaven be come. 

Of that punishment which, In every system of religion^ 
is' expressed by the storages! &n£most terrific metaphor, •* 



PREFACE. XIX 

©pinions., of course, are as various as the subject is vague.- 
Analogy and experience, however, must convince every 
one capable of reflection, that suffering is and must be 
the natural result of crime. "An eye for an eye and a 
tooth for a tooth," is expressive of what will he felt by 
aE who have inflicted pain., while tasting themselves that 
pain's equivalent. Every wound maliciously given to a 
heart, sensitive and confiding, every needless hlow inflict- 
ed by cruelty, on a sMa black or white, will be .as surely 
requited and felt in return 3 as .that warmth is necessary 
to life, or that blood flows from a ga^h. 

The state of the negro at the present day, attracts more 
of the public attention than that of those suffering poor who 
in colour, more resemble the firmament \ but, as regardsthe 
jetty African, provide plentifully for his meals \ give him 
the female lie prefers ; let him have means to procure a few 
trinkets <-and ornaments, and above all, qxaet no .task be- 
yond Ms strength or capacity. Thus provided for, the 
brilliant rows between his pouting lips are disclosed by as 
much happiness as he, probably, is capable of tasting. 

Of the sons and daughters of the country of gold and 
ivory, the maker of these poor remarks Is so much the 
friend, that she could not, without a thrill of anguish, see 
their bright eyes dimmed with tears, or a single matted 
curl torn cruelly from their shining foreheads. Should 
any of the "genii" come to the guidance of an intellect 
enshrined in ebony, ungenerous, indeed, would it be to. 
oppose either deed or wish to its advancement. 

To whom, indeed, could he presented a field more vasU 



&%■■' ; PREFACE. 

or alluring than to a Mack ee man of 'genius, P (Could such 
-a 'feeing be found ?) 

The improvement and civilisation of almost a quarter 
,a£ the globe, -with all the luxury\ which wealth and cli- . 
mate present-, are objects which seem to articulate the ^ 
words : come, do, and take ! Nay, the work is already 4 
begun at Liberia. Could any bmck man finish it, the da- 
very of his race would cease, y 

Of the beautiful island of JS^i/the African Is sove- 
reign, with those means of improvement which commerce 
can bring at his call from the most civilized colntries of 
Europe. By the free possession of that island have his 
glory or his happiness increased ? This might seem a 
question worth no less than a hearing and an answer.* 

Could a few sable youths and. maidens" be fouad who 
would hasten to . that island purchased with blood, and 
induce to some exertion the urchins, who roam- -naked, 
(looking like little statues -of bronze,)' through its woods 

® Resent -events in Hayti, may possibly furnish an answer. 
It is worthy of remark that the Swiss,the German, the Irish- 
man, and indeed, white men of almost every nation, will rush 
in crowds, when a " land of promise" is described to them ; 
with no other means than their own energy, they obtain by 
toili a passage over the ocean, and often, absolutely bind 
themselves out as slaves, pro tempore, merely for the remote 
prospect of calling their own, a little land, which can onlj 
be reclaimed from the wilderness by a continuation of their 
toil. The negro docs no such tiling : he must be put op board 
a vessel and have his passage paid j and when landed at last, 
in a fertile country, he will scarcely, unless in some degree 
compelled, do work enough to support his own life. Fie has 
not, like the white mau ; an " ideality" of distant and future 
good. 



PREFACE, XXI 

and plantain groves; or would they even assist in setting 
plantains and bananas about the confines of Liberia, the 
banners of the elephant might easily be spread. But of 
what avail are those laws and permissions •which invite 
the two most opposite colours to the same couch and ta- 
ble ? 

Nature will always step forward as the common queen 
and Iftgjtalatrix. Her edicts are stamped in characters too 
strong and definite to perish because they 'are misinter- 
preted. Licentiousness or necessity may often break her 
commandments ; but the fair descendants of the fair mis- 
tress of Eden ? are pioud of their locks, like 9 the sunbeams 
of Euphrates ; their arms and bosoms like his lilies ; and 
eyes the colour of his waves like the skies at noon,, or when 
dark beneath the shade of his willows* Will these ever 
set aside those rules ■ of taste and beauty, which even the , 
birds of the garden and wilderness know how to respect 
and to observe? 1 * 

* The lines which came to memory, as if to be inserted, are 
so very applicable to the subject that I make a note of them. 
They are composed by Addison, iri Latin, and translated, (I 
believe,) by Dr. Goldsmith. Daring childhood, they were 
put into my hands by persons whom I must ever respect. — 
A. perusal^ of the classics is not, now, the fashion of the day i 
but a cultivation of the virtus of sincerity must surely pro - 
luce far better results than that fastidiousness which has fol- 
lowed their disuse, sind which serves only, to lend a deeper 
shade to hypocrisy. The nature of birds is thus des= 
■ribed: 

" Chaste are their instincts, faithful. is their -fire, 
No foreign beauty tempts to false desire :' 
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown, 
The simple plumage or the glossy down, 

Prompt not their love. The patriot bird pursues 



JOOl PREFACE, / 

While the lives of every variety of mortals must be 
3-fept cp by food and lire, hands must be found to fell the 
forest, and to delve in the earth for roots and water ; whe- 
ther these hands should be black or white, can only he 
determined by the -wonderful artist who nerves and tints 
them. May all -who toil, and axe toiled for, receive and 
give kindness in return ! % 

On the subjects involved in the story of "Idomen" no 
more remains to be said. It is- many years since the 
writing of its pages was begun,, and many of those looks 
for which they were transcribed from the tablets of the 
'inmost soul can never* noir. Be cast ob them. 

Before even the thought of this transcription a few 
germs of laurel were plucked for the wearing of their 
scribe, by a philanthropist, a bard and an historian, from 
his own full and! well-deserved wreath, His beautiful form* 
though in rains, remains still upon, earth : hut his more 
beautiful intelligence seems recalled to its native heaven 
while death is reluctant to strike. 

Should that most benevolent; intelligence, (be it either 
on earth or m heaven.) take cognizance of whnt a most 
grateful votarist ha/5 said, may it judge of her according 
to her sincerity, and pardon and rectify her errors. 

Ilia well acquainted tints and kindred hues-. 
Hence thro' their tribe no mixed polluter! flame," 
No monster brood to mark the gravua with f-Jiarno : 
But the ctia&te black bird, to his partner true. 
Thirties Mack alone w beauty's favorite hue : 
The nightingale. -with mutual passion 'bh-.r.i, 
Sings to Instate mm nightly "charm:- the nc:r;t, 
While the chirk owl 10 vjuo Jur, n&rtaer fli*.;:;, 
And owns his offspring in theii'yello-*' c, o:-;." 



PREFACE* t XXU1 

The vivid germs, bestowed by a hand so excellent, that 
•vatarist can scarcely hopeto wear j born, as she Is, in a 

Mew' world, far distant from the home of the "bard of Madoc, 
although familiar to his lyre ; ox should the wreath, 
"begun by such guilelss generosity be ever permitted on 

tftnples once throbbing to be encircled, it is now steeped 
in so many tears that its leaves may want strength to un- 
fold, neither, haply, cd,h its blossoms expand in any Tray 
that has been honed cither of warmth or loveliness, 



<l 



I 



PROLOG UE 



A. »i 



itraiiger newly transported from the snows 
of the north, and placed in a piazza not far 
from the shores of Cuba, "becomes, if he has' 
the least sensibility, inebriate with warmth and 
fragrance. Inhaling the perfume of orange 
trees, and surrounded with fields of coffee (with 
its glossy green leaves growing in wreathes 
with crimson berries, or white "blossoms,) he 
moYeSy looks, and speaks as if 'under tiro in- 
fluence of enchantment. Let him who sighs 
f'r: death, come hither ; a light veil will soon. 
be spread over all the scenes of memory, end. 
'.ho climtilc, if it docs not destroy, may, tit- 
least, shorten his material term. 

Aobroiiio del Monte, a young* Cuban, educa- 
'...;... i;i Germany (') had proposed tome a visit 
to \ . sijivevn Henr "he valley of Yumuri. At sis 
in '■"■ .'.•:: m/.-miinr; ;vo ■/o. , 3 on iiorssbtck, Tvitii : 

A 



IDOMEN. 



negro attendants. The air was sweet with the 
yellow flowers of malva; and a small herb bear- 
ing blossoms of cerulean blue, still trembled 
with the large dew drops of a refreshing night, 

The sun had just arisen with that hurst of 
splendor known only in the tropics. A few % 
solitary pelicans were seen about the. bay of 
Matanzas, whose broad ? semi-circular expanse, 
smooth and "bright as a mirror, reflected ev- 
eiy object around it in light of the richest col- 
ors. A party of young men were just entering 
a small boat to go to a vessel moored at a dis- 
tance in the harbor. " It is more beautiful/ 5 
said one of them, "than the Bay of Naples," 

We passed through the town, and were soon 
beside the lucid Yumuri, as it glided insensi- 
bly between banks of eternal verdure, reflect- 
ing every flower and leaf that hung in profusion 
around it. I could but muse, a moment, on 
that happy people who once lived" and loved 
in these retreats, and passed as calmly to their 
grave's as this stream to the bay, which so 
sweetly and silently engulfs it. They wel- 
comed the christian to their abodes and — where 
Ere they now- 3 

■ We soon entered the woods, and descended 
to the first large and murky apartment of a 
cavern that had never been explored. ( 2 ) There 
are few tilings in nature that awaken more fear- 
ful sensations than an unknown labyrinth in 
the. earth. Our negroes were afraid 5 our 



PROLOGUE, 3 

lights^ too ill guarded to proceed, and we were 
soon glad to abandon this craggy temple of 
darkness for the breath of flowers and of hea-* 
v'en. . . 

Leading our horses through the trees, we 
found a path cut through a thicket, which had 
else been impervious. Innumerable creeping 
plants had climbed from tree to tree, entangling 
the branches with their Yerdant meshes, and 
now hung waving and floating on the air in 
wreaths and luxuriant masses,, . 

.The path was just wide and high enough to 
allow us to' mount our horses, but soon open- 
ed into a spacious avenue of bamboo. The 
spectacle to me was astonishing. Immense 
reeds planted in clusters, and at equal dis- 
tances, had reached at least fifty feet in height- 
Their strong stems, bending gracefully, and 
crossing each other near the summit, former. 
a vast arch or aisle of the Gothic order.* The 
roof, of small innumerable leaves of a grassy 
texture, was impenetrable to the sun ^ and the 
tall clustered columns whence it sprung were, 
many of them, bound together with a natural 

* There was on the road from Matanzas to the partido 
GuamacarOj in 1824 ? a bamboo aisle or avenue, like the 
one described, nearly half a mile in length j it led to the 
central "building of a plantation owned by a French gen- 
tleman. 

Some of tlie researches of Sir William Jones give rea- 
son to believe that the first idea of Gothic architecture 
was indeed derived from the growth of bamboo,' 

12 . 



% , . .1DQJERN* 



iiaeery of ipomtea, and cohvolvuli, still fresh 
and' vivid. ' ' ! 

For the' eighth of an English 'mile we rode 
inider this shapely bower, which looked as if .^ 
-reared by magic|. But art had merely direct- 
ed the hand' of nature. An old man planted 
'the 'reeds, and, a few years -had completed the 
magnificent structure. 

The moaning of the smaller dove was. heard 
near us, and the jhigh verdant arches above our 
heads, were disturbed by the black v/ings of the 
Judio,- whose ne^t was concealed in them. 

Noon was fast approaching, and the heat of 
the sun without, was intense* We. alighted 
from ; our horsesf and treading on a thick car= 
•pet of fallen leaves proceeded leisurely through 
■the charming walk, nil it gave us the vista of 
a coffee plantation, divided into compartments 
and enclosed with broad hedges of lime trees, 
"euf'in the form ojf a thick wall, and filled with 
fruit and blossoms. (3) 

In- the centre! of an open, space, stood a 
dwelling formed of stakes driven into the 
earth, and woven together with wild plants, in 
.the manner of basketry. A rustic piazza oi 
•tasteful shape, was' surrounded by sweet seen-' 
-tied- shrubs ; and twined with passion flowers, 
eonvolvuli, and that delicate creeper calledW 
I the French l la chemlure de Venus? A lawn hi 
front' was. covered with the fine grass of Ber- 



PBOLOGUE* 5 

muda, which, spread like mats om the 'borders 

of every flower bed, prevented the feet from 

being soiled by the red mould of the country. 

In the centre of the lawn surrounded by 

flowers, and protected by a thick bower of 
grenadilla, was a bason formed of the lime of 
the island converted into plaster,, and from a 
Tase cut from the lime rock, (standing on aped- 
estal, and ornamented with spar, from some 
neighboring cavern,) gushed a small stream of 
filtered water. ■ , 

Low hedges of those roses which are al- 
ways in bloom, and emit a faint odor, like that 
of the violet, added to the cheerfulness of the 
scene. The hollow trunk of a palm tree had 
been cut into convenient pieces, which stood 
elevated round the bason, and were filled with 
honey bj the wild bees, while borders of red 
head (oT'ipecacuana),seemed almost alive with 
the humming birds which it had been planted 
to allure. ( 4 ) 

Warm and weary, we were hesitating wheth- 
er, to advance farther or to return again to the 
woods, when a negro appeared with a message 
from his master, inviting us to rest beneath 
his. roof till evening. 

We found waiting for us, in. the piazza, an 
elderly - pers on, whose-benign- e ountenancerwas- 
shaded-hy hair still profuse, although white as 
the inomar:. \dhic!.i opens at sunset upon hedges 
of lime r::isl -o?:icMv Dear, .'\hu oaeat arrange- 
a3 " 



6 IDOMEN. 

ment of his linen diess with the gentle compo- 
. sure of his manner, increased the favorable 
opinion conceived before, from the taste of 
his rural embellishments. 

We accepted an invitation to dine, and were 
soon shown into little apartments where we 
found cots to repose upon, defended from the 
mosquitos by clean transparent muslin, pur- 
chased atMatanzasj gourds of different shapes 
and" sizes supplied the place of basons and 
ewers, and were filled with water, cold from 
the tan 1^ and filtering" st on 3. 

"We threw, off our riding dresses,, and after 
hathing and dressing in fresh linen, yielded to 
the allurement of the pillows prepared for us^ 
and enjoyed the luxury of that noonday sleep^ 
so grateful and necessary after any tropical ex- 
cursion. ( 6 ) 

At three we were summoned to the table, 
where two other guests, who were wayfaring 
men, took also their places. B 

Soup of a turtle, taken by accident in the 
river, was served in the turtle's own shell, cut- 
lets of the white meat of the same turtle, a 
young peacock, a guinea fowl, doves from the 
cote, and parrots served in pastry, formed the 
principal course j side dishes of- rice grown on 
the plantation, and sweet potatoes, (which hiid 
ornamented its provision grounds with ilieii' 
glossy vines and purple blossoms) were brought 
at the same time with larps vecre table error. 



O. 



PEGLOGUE, 7 

dressed with crumbs of bread , trre unripe plan* 
tain appealed in small pieces browned at the 
fixe 3 and the same fruit wholly ripe was roast- 
3d and served in the fresh juice of the sugar 
cane. Next came shell fish, red as coral, from 
the bay of Matanzas ? and small oysters, with 
flat purple shells, each of which contains a 
small pearl. ( 6 ) Milk, curdled by the climate, 
pressed into the form of a heart,, and laid on 
rose leaves, was eaten with cream and a syrup 
boiled with blossoms of the orange tree. 

The wine that sparlded in our glasses was 
the purest of Bordeaux and Xeres. A fragrant 
anana, fresh guayavas, rose apples., fig-bananas, 
and sapadillas, were profusely heaped at the 
dessert, and coffee from a neighboring sec- 
adero finished the bountiful repast, * Fresh 
leaves, curiously folded, had, during this coarse 
of fruits, supplied .the place of richer vessels j (?) 
and the only servants, save our own, who ap- 
peared at table, were two young negTcsses se- 
lected for a comeliness not common among wo- 
men of their color, They were clad in a single 
■"/:.■/! Ic of whiia Jiiien, with blue handkerchiefs 
upon their heads ; their waists were encircled 
with belts woven of the purple shoots of some 
gaudy creeper of the forest, while their glossy 
'black necks and bare round arms were oraa- 

*Not p. ilir/ii ov fruit is mentioned at this meal that has 
ubsoiulcly not been tasted by tlte~wrIteiT ; ^ 

a4« ' ' • - 



8 ! .IDOKBN. 

mented with collars and bracelets of the scar* 
let 'grains' of the ' coral plant which/had grown 
near their own Habitations. 

The sun was near sinking when we rose from 
table and repaired to the grounds that first at- 
tracted us. ' The hospitable Dalcour showed 
lis specimens of spar from caverns or grottos in % 
his neighborhood. We admired the ingenuity 
of his fountain, from which the water flowed 
slowly, but filtered and ready for use, while 
the high- light roof above it, shaded by two 
clusters of bamboo, and thickly covered with 
vines of the luxuriant grenadiHa, protected the 
bason from the sun and formed a eool retreat 
from the ferver of noon when too oppressive. 

" This water," said Dalcour!, "comes from 
a neighboring tank, kept always full by the 
rains that fall upon our secadero* It is con- 
ducted through tubes Of bamboo smeared with 
the bitumen or * -liquid coal' that oozes from a 
rock at Camarioca. It is but a frail material ! 
— jet even these simple reeds may Last as long 
in the bosom of the earth, as he who placed 
them there is permitted to remain upon its sur- 
face." • 

We wandered; about tfie grounds till the 
brief delicious twilight was fading, and then 
sat down to. rest in a little arbour at the ex- 
tremity of an alley, where orange trees were 
growing, alternately with lowpomegranaLoo. 
Trees were seem here and there, tearing- a 



PROLOGIZE, ' 9 

£nixt of the color of a glowing peach, but shaped 
like an inverted pear, and surmounted by 
mat dangerous nut, in the form of a Turkish 
crescent. 

Our bower, slightly woven of guana, was 
covered with the vine of the passion flower,' 
and shaded by the acacia of Florida. A ham- 
mock near its entrance, was suspended froiKi 
two trees of the Otaheite almond- Into this 
Ambrosio threw himself, and liny rocking and 
looking at the sky that still tinted the foliage 
with its colors. 

All the beauties of tke island, seemed united 
on this flourishing plantation. "In. the trop- 
ics," said Dalcoux, "nature is active and pro- 
fuse, and such adornments as these are easily 
procured and assembled. («) Yet the traveller 
in Cuba can find little to examine except out 
numerous caves. The dwellings of the plan- 
ter are generally new and simple. Bamboo 
Form his only arches and palm trees his only 
;olumns. (o) As soon as respiration ceases the 
•emalns of the stranger are cast into the earth* 
lis substance soon changes to flowers and 
veeds 3 and death is an event so common, that 
ew find leisure for a sigh even when it oc- 
curs in their circle. 

" The man of feeling, when' disgusted with 
■.oldness 01 perlidy, retreats to the pages of - 
omane(;, s;nd :;-or^-: ;.":;;■ tli« fl^ld-i of Jmaginntion 
Hell beings as lie has YsinhrpaaLtid -.y Uphold 



10 1DQMEN-, 

and possess in reality. Yet, false -and insipid 
as it seems at first sight, — -life — real, every-day 
life, abounds with incidents often more wild 

and affecting than creations of the most fer- 
vid fancy.- Poor Idomen!'-who will not forget 
thee when I am no more V 9 " And who was% 
Idomen 1 " I said. " Her story," returned Dal- 
cour, " is long | — If you will hear it, remain 
with me till to-morrow." 

'-:■ ':^bu^^^^rMt^jm6p& ■ w^wclh hnd aOW aris« 
en, were playing, in the silver locks of our 
bland host, and glancing, faintly reflected, over 
the jetty curls of Ambrosiodel Monte? as they 
peeped between the large meshes of the net 
work 1 " of the hammock that still supported him. 
The.. tube rose, or "aziicena," burthened the. 
imtd,atEao:sphere, with, a perfume resembling 
that of the magnolia ; while its tall spires, foil 
of blossoms, were seen betwen the trees of the 
alley. The faint odour of the coffee fields^ 
§Hn;tiinei|0 time, mingled with; our breathing. 
l t$0:B^^^M,k:Q^0^mi ! ^'S inilower was grow- 
ing so near, that even amid so much aroma, 
we could distinguish its light fragrance like' 
that of the violet. 

Moonlight in these climates, produces a re- 
markable effect ; it seems to penetrate the sys- 
tem through _ the pores and conduits of the 
skin, and produces that softness of languor 60 
difficult to overcome or to resist. The way to 
Oliff ■ home, though not very far, lay through 



PROLOGUE, 11 

thickets almost impervious j the pleasing fa- 
tigue of the morning" had also been enough for 
my companion j' we remained with the cour- 
teous stranger, and desired him to relate his 

story. Dalcour lose a moment, drew aside 
the flower and leaves that the moonbeams might 
enter more freely j and placing me by his side 

on a turf seat covered with Bermuda grass, be- 
gan thus, the relation which seemed overflow*- 
ing from his memory. 



~- 






, 






. 









R E C 1 T A L 



THE FIRESIDE, 

Various misfortunes had determined me to 

visit the new world. Far advanced in the path 
of life, my wishes were few. I sought only gold 
enough to retire to some humble recess j and 

hoped for no other pleasure, than to find at 
last, some being capable of friendship, that I 
might 'sometimes unburthen my heart, by ex- 
pressing my real sentiments. - 

After many commercial adventures, I found 

myself in P :d, the most northern capital 

of the still new American republic. I sadly 
followed my affairs, finding little to interest 
one whose feelings had not yet recovered their 
tone after many and severe afflictions. 

Burleigh, a merchant of middle age, heard 
me refuse an invitation for the evening, on the 
plea of not speaking sufficient English to be 
tolerable in the company of ladies. On the 
following night he said to me, " come to my 
house ; my wife sings and speaks French ; and 5 
perhaps in this part of the world, there are not 



THE PIEESIDE. 13 

many like hey, ?J The evening was cold; end 
hooks had already fatigued me ; I followed bin 
to his house, merely because it was indifferent: 
to me whither I went. 

Sno¥/ fell fast upon our heads as we entered 
the door of Burleigh, and the light of his warm 
saloon gave me a feeling like pleasure. 

No group of cold matrons m guy laughing 
girls were awaiting me. One female alone ap- 
peared, dressedin white, and sitting on a crim- 
son sofa, drawn near to the fire. She was 
teaching an evening hymn to a fair curly-hair- 
ed child, who sat upon her knee in all the love- 
liness of infancy. 

The ioom was furnished, in good taste, and 
in a style of luxurious convenience rare even 
in the richer dwellings of those semi-anglo re- 
gions. Tapers of wax stood upon a table where 
books and some loose music lay scattered. 

The lady arose at my entrance, held her fair 
boy by the hand, and courtsied with that mis- 
tux e of diffidence and expectation which be- 
speaks the keenest sensibility. " Idomen," 
said my conductor, " I have brought to you n 
stranger, from the country you "iviah to e.ei' :.— - 
show him your books, and entertain him- as 



well as you can." 



Idomen, despite of hex "maternity, had a. a a u' 
of extreme youth, and blushed as shs spoke h: 
may language j yet i :;ooa d/cuv her into conver- 
sation, and "nerceiv ;;t . ":■:->.. iiov a (WvO: - miA &. ; r.I;) 



14 • IDOBIEN* 

for the elegant arts, not cornmonly found even 
in the most classic countries. 

■ I. took', the child upon my knee \ played .-with 
his soft hair/ and told his -mother that,- despite 
the coldness of the climate, I was reminded of 
Venus and her son, in the island of Cyprus. — • 
" But where 1" said she, as the coloux of her 
cheelixhecailiehrighter^: "■ where' are Apollo and 

?r tea and cakes had been served, Mad- 
tiirleigh, at the request of her husband, 

ig a' few songs in French, which she told me 
'''had -been : learned- at > Quebec | and said also,, 
that she had been to Philadelphia.* 

Pleased 'with her warmth and ar-tlessness, i 
proposed visiting her daily, and reading with 
her -the works of some favorite masters, in my 
language. She cast a doubtful glance at her 
husband, who bade her accept my offer. 

The I following morning I returned j Idomen 
had -already, lying on her table, "Atala," and 
" Letres . . sur la mytologie." ■ I had brought 
with me a volume of Jean- Jaques Rosseau, and 
turned to that lyrical scene,' so charming to ar- 
tists of the higher order, " Pygmalion ou la stat- 
ue' qui s'ahime*" — The readiness with which it 
was translated surprised roe' ;. but the feeling 
which it caused to be disclosed filled- me with 
compassion. 

■'. *It scarcely need be remarked that, in the fine ari% 
Philadelphia Tar preceded any other, city of the North 
American republic. 



THE F1EESIDE, 15 

it was long since any being had laterested 
me like this ; I cultivated the favor of Burleigh, 
and often played with him at cards and draughts 
while Idomeis. was busied with her child or the 
affairs of her household ; but while thus engag- 
ed with the husoand, I never forbore to observe 
every action of his gentle companion, 

This young and dutiful woman, calmly as 
she seemed to pass her life, was a being full of 

TuaeQ ii rvnra • trof flnipso Ttsaesiimnci linr! np.T/p.r Kpspti 

awakened. The perfect serenity which reign- 
ed upon her fair forehead, was like that of the 
ocean oh a still summer morning, — alas ! for 
the storms that might arise. It was pleasing 
to observe the harailessoess of her thoughts, up- 
held as they were bj a sentiment which ena- 
bled her to make the most difficult sacrifices^. 
without murmur or a shade of petulance. 

Formed in every nerve for the refinements 
of pleasure, she cheerfully undertook the most 
wearisome employments .; and deprived herself 
whole weeks, even of the consolations of music, 

Still, a natural taste or perception of the 
beautiful caused Idomen. to make the most of 
those advantages which nature had in kindness 
bestowed upon her 5 and her dress always va- 
ried from the fashion of the day, enough -to: be 
in good conformity with the style of her coun- 
tenance and figure^ Idom en wishe^'tc^pleaseg 
she wished to be be autifu l ; but, every en g ra- 
Tins' or description which from " chiiflr.ootl iivA 



16 \ IDOMEN* 

fallen into her eager hands had been absolutely 

devoured, and both memory and fancy were so 
filled with an exquisite ideal, that she thought 
humbly and 'even despondingly of her own at- 
tractions.' 

. In -the circle -which -surrounded this woman 
there was not one being whose thoughts bore 
the slightest affinity to those which filled her 
o wn. intellect. ' Her husband it was true, loved 
h&t to the utmost of his- nature \ he even over- 
rated her accomplishments, and was proud 
when he' saw her admired. Bnt Burleigh was 
sensual 5 unskilled in the mysteries of the heart; 
and Idomen, though ministering to his pleas- 
Tires, became often the object of his petulance. 

Many of her hours had been passed in weep- 
ing 5 she felt that she was not happy, bat never 
thought of repining j for she had yet to learn 
that happiness existed,, unless in those scenes of 
fiction, which beguiled her hours of loneliness. 

In the circle where Burleigh lived, married 
women were not used to receive the least at- 
tention from any* other than their husbands.—- 
Occupied with the' cares of their household, 
they dreamed of nothing beyond it ; and gen- 
erally ob. becoming wires, laid aside every art 
or accomplishment which, while maidens, they 
had begun to cultivate. The innocent amuse- 
ments of Idomen were so often looked upon 
with blame, that die r fitter concealed than dis- 
played them. 



THB FIRESIDE. < If 

The matrons of her neighborhood said, " so 
much of books and singing- leads to idleness." 
From mere natural docility and the painful- 
lness of censure, Idomen did as they directed 3 
and often sat whole weeks, making those house- 
hold articles, which to them, was sufficient 
employment. 

Bet imagination sought refuge from inani- 
ty ; for the heart will still pant, though the 
hands and person are enchained. Madam Bur- 
leigh, while thus restricted, composed many 
flowing verses, which when the task was done, 
were written on scraps of paper with her pen- 
cil. 

By praises and gentle attentions, I won en- 
tirely her confidence, and my conversation. 
had, for her at least, the charm of a first friend- 
ship. The mind, accustomed to find solace 
only in itself, is long in gaining confidence 
sufficient to pour forth its thoughts even to the 
ear of kindness ; yet still I succeeded in oh-, 
taining a few glances at the soul of this wo- 
man, 

Burleigh, she told me, Lad educated and pro- 
tected her, ut a period when, her family-, by a 
reverse of fortune, were in a state of dismay 
r.-.nd emburnisBment. A loved and accomplish- 
ed sister, 'who was now no more, had shared 
with her mother, she [-aid, the care of her in- 
infancy, end given her the name Idomine^Bs it 
is writ ten in French hul "whe - was called- in 
aG 



IDOMEN. 



,, 
? 



her family Idomen.- " And is your husband 
I said, " your only relative now V "I have," 
she returned, " an uncle and cousins ; but they 
are in distant countries, and absorbed in the 
toils of commerce. My husband has been to 
me, in the place both of father and brother 5 
and duty and gratitude demand that I should 
serve and obey him in; everything-. 5 ' 

Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke ; and 

sadly and singularly in contrast with her 
soft sunny complexion, and the expression, 
sometimes almost voluptuous, of her ever va- 
rying countenance. s • 

A prince, thought I, might be proud of thee, 
Idomen, for a daughter; but, in scenes where 
thy lot seems cast, to be what thou art is a 
misfortune. 

The North American republic at that time, 
was agitated by a war with the mother country, 
whose language it will speak forever. 

My uncertain fortune called me to this is- 
land — "of fruits and flowers, and soft breezes 52 
said Ambrosio del Monte, as he rose and quit- 
ted his hammock, plucking from the vine of 
the grenadilla, a superb flower, which had the 
sun shone instead of the moon, would have 
looked like a purple coronet. ('«) Dalcou? smil- 
ed and spoke to him in Spanish. The young 
man called to his negro and strolled slowly to- 
ward the piazza, while lights in the rustic hall 



THE FIRESIDE. 19 

began to glimmer through the foliage and "blos- 
soms. 

The courteous host proceeded:— " I did not 
tell Idomen I would return, hut promised my- 
self to Tisit again the cold but picturesque re- 
gion where she lived. My parting was sad 
and regretful, but I left her in the bosom of af- 
fluence. 

" 1 had traversed so much of the world, that 
objects were new to me* ■ To reflect on 



IC 



W 



the events of my life, was like opening a Sibyl- 
line volume, of which the worst oracles were 
fulfilled. Yet the innocent being who had 
crossed my path so lately, held now, a large 
space in the fields of my imagination 5 1 felt for 
her, I knew not what of pity and solicitude ; 
but, son of casualty as I was, how could I ben- 
efit one to whom the gifts of fortune were not 
entirely denied 1 

" In this island I formed a friendship with 
one of your c ountry. The broken ties of exile, 
the conflicting interests and vicissitudes which 
follow in the train of commerce, have all less 
effect on the German than on men of other 
countries ; accustomed to reflection, his mind 
becomes his world. Governed by laws crea- 
ted for himself, the calm expansion of his soul 
remains pure and unbroken 5 even amidst the 
selfish mass who wrangle and wound each 
other, at every step around him* In the midst 
of every thins- which can blacken and -pollute, 



20 ; IUQMEN* 

a native, integrity, remains fresh and unsullied 

in his bosom $ as dew contained in the cup of 
that flower to which travellers fly for refresh- 
ment amid the marshes of. Florida/" ior as tJhe 
cool clear draft contained in those vines which 
hang pendant from the forest trees of Cuba, 

To a ,0erjiian j conflded ? ---the, little, weakh 
won from the wreck of my fortunes was placed 
in the hands of. a German, and thire treat 
which has called forth your praises was chosen 
for me by a German. 



THE STRANGER. 



Dalcour ceased, held his watch a moment 
towards the moon, and-. said to me, "where is 
your friend?" "He lingers in the house," I 
replied, " to write billets doux, ■ or compose 
geguidillas. A young i Cubana 3 has enchanted 
him, and his fancy is now too full to suffer 
him to -listen." 

• A flower in. the form, of a cup, imA containing a draft 
of dew, has been described in. the earlier notices of Florida., 

fThis vine of Cuba bears a small inferior sort of grape. 
A small gourd becomes immediately full from a large one 
wkeii -cat- with, & sabre, ' suck as are commonly worn by 
torseisea in that country. 



THE STRANGER. 21 

The evening was not far advanced.' The 
admirer of Idonien looked at me enquiringly, 
resumed .his seat and proceeded: 

Before taking possession of this little do- 
main, I was called once more to the States of 
North America. Late in the season I went 

again to ? — d. A mania had possessed 

the merchants of that coast, for investing the 
fruits of their : toil in privateers, -which swarm- 
ed from their ports during 1 a war with Britain. 
Some were enriched by the experiment 5 but 
Burleigh had been nearly ruined. 

Again I visited Idomen ; her household was 
redacec! 3 but a degree of elegance • was still 
preserved about her person and apartments, 
She expressed a lively joy at my return. — • 
"Pass wtih us," she said, "this evening* — 
Fharamond, my cousin, has promised to come 3 
and will bring with him a beautiful person, 
whom I once saw, for a moment, when still 
almost a boy, in a little boat, on the river St, 
Lawrence, in Canada. 

At an early hour in the evening, I returned. 
Idomen wore black because of the loss of some 
friend, but the covering of her arms was tnmr,* 
parent, * and her fair hair was braided and ar» 
ranged with more than usual attention. Eve- 
ry thing which she thought could entertain, 
was flollficted_and__nJaced i n her drawing room. 

• It may 'be recollected thai the dress of ladies, -it th r .% 



^2 IDOMEN. 

Burleigh soon entered with some neighbors, 
who were quickly placed at a whist table ; but 
1 remained sitting on the sofa, with Idomen, 
who waited for her cousin. 

Three blossoms of narcissus were on her 
bosom, with a small sprig of myrtle, and re- 
lieved by her mourning dress, had an- effect so 
pretty that I immediately noticed them. 

The snow lay in the streets without, and 
the wood fire blazed briskly within,, (the same 
as when for the first time I came to the dwel- 
ling of Burleigh j) while the freshness and fra- 
grance of these solitary flowers, bore as strong 
a contrast to the season of the year, as she who 
wore ,them to those who surrounded her. u I 
never saw,' 5 said Idomen, "the narcissus bloom 
in winter before. These were called forth 
from their bulbs by a poor Hollander, who 
sold them lately, for a subsistence ; there were 
but three, and I have' plucked them in honor 
of my three most valued friends. 55 You rec- 
ollect the fable, I said, Narcissus perished for 
the love of himself, and nothing remained of 
him but this flower ; which, upon your mour- 
ning robe looks so very white, and beautiful. 
"Echo," she replied, "perished for the love 
of Narcissus, and nothing remains of her but 
a sound." Poor Idomen! her words were like 
an oracle of her own destiny !- — my story alone, 
is her echo, and4-who will repeat it when these 
lips are closed forever 1 — when the blood of 



/ 



THE STE ANGER. 23 

this heart, which so yearned to her, is chang- 
ed to tropical verdure. 

Dalcour arose, stood a moment at the entrance 
of the arbour, put his hands awhile to his fore- 
head, and then continued thus his recollections: 

The door soon opened, and Pharamond 
Lloyd presented Ethelwald, the promised beau- 
tiful stranger. 

The endeavor of Madam Burleigh to ac- 
quit herself well of the honors of her husband's 
house, prevented at first, the full effect of his 
appearance j but, as soon as introduction was 
Over, one of the milk white hands of Ethelwald 
was thrown carelessly over the keys of an open 
piano, which was drawn towards one side of 
the fire, and the eyes of the lady were arrest- 
ed ; but the party at whist thought more of 
their game than of melody j and as those who 
remained were just four, Idomen soon desired 
us to sit down to another table, lest music 
might disturb those who were intent upon 
their play. 

The solicitous hostess was placed opposite to 
her beautiful guest, whom she had not yet had 
leisure to observe, because of the numerous at- 
tentions' which it was necessary to pay to oth- 
ers, but wax lights were soon upon the table ana 
all at last wer-a seated. Lloyd dealt the cards, 
and there was nothing to impede--the-g3anees- 
of Idomen, which were either riveted to the 
face or wandering" eagerly - over the ilolr - aridr 



24* 1B0MEN, 

admirable bust of her -partner. Her whole 
soul seemed abroad in the looks she cast on 
him. Plaeed directly opposite, the eyes of 
Bthelwald were continually encountering hers 9 

and expressed an undissembled satisfaction. 

I looked alternately at each 5 and while sur- 
veying the young stranger, I could hardly for- 
bear sharing in the sentiment of delight which 
appeared at this moment to have entire pos- 
session of her whose countenance I was watch- 

At the period of their utmost splendor I had 
seen the capitals of Europe. The beauties of 
Asia,' I had admired, and wandered over much 
of America. But never had I witnessed before 
such an assemblage of personal wonders, as 
now met my eyes in the unconscious young 
man before me. 

His age at this time was twenty-three years ; 
his statui^ much exceeded six feet, and his fig- 
ure, though still supple and slender, had at- 
tained enough of obesity to give that round- 
Bess of surface so much admired by painters. 

The ancient Romans, sometimes fed their 
gladiators with a chosen food, to make them 
look more beautiful 5 — but here, what tints and 
Contour had been refined by a pro-cess of na- 
ture, from the snowy earth of Canada ! 

iThe complexion of the youth was so fair, as 
to seem almost preternatural ; but the expan- 
sion of his forehead, a certain stateliness of 



THJS.STBANGffiB* 25 

carriage j the turn of Ms neck, and the noble 
outline of his whole person, preserved him, de- 
spite of his uncommon softness, from the slight- 
est appearance of effeminacy, A smile of vo- 
luptuous sweetness played, as he spoke, about 
his exquisite mouth, and disclosed rows of 
teeth as white and free from stain or blemish, 
as bleachedpearls newly taken from the oyster. 
Still, a purity and even anxiety of expression,, 
relieved at intervals the mild brilliancy of his 
eyes ; and a strength of arm almost gigantic, 
was aorgoiten in tue delicacy 01 iiis manners, 
and a certain indescribable grace which seem- 
ed beaming and floating, as it were, over his 
whole person. 

Idomen, towards the close of the visit, sang 
at the desire of her husband. 

Secure in her faith, Burleigh was entirely 
free from jealousy, and delighted to show her 
to strangers and to foreigners. 

Some ladies had joined the party, and cards 
were laid aside* Ethelwald was enamoured 
of music ; he sang, with Pharamond Lioyde, 
some of those wild boat songs peculiar to the 
peasants of Canada, and spoke of the beauty of 
his native rives. The evening 1 was finished, 
and wheal -the hour of parting drew near he 
went carelessly to the piano. forte, and accom- 
panied himself m one of-those- simple— kit 
touching- aits derived from the troubadour-s-of 
France, and still heard from many a. lip on 

'LJlfj SKXGWV DftlliCS 0i tllC k3Eu jLf€lWX©nsJ-fi» - 



26 ' febOMEIL ■" 

• ■•ATe#'3N3fo ,: TeBid'emc6- , ifi'Etiirope ht&i iua- 

|>Fdved ; the'hateal taste -of title $&foto&»-bttd 
fender cadences of -Italy sometimes heighten- 
ed 'the effect of his closes, without conveying 
the faintest Idea either of study or display.— 
Every 'slanza that he -i^ang had- this conclusion? 

'"'Quand On aime 3 
O'n. aimera toiij oiu k s 3 

Toujours davantage.'* 

Ko one ever -sings Well without feeling', for 
the moment, what he utters. The : soul of Etk- 
elwald seemed to warm every note and word f 
he looked^, up ; and his curling hair, of a pale 5 
golden brown) shone t so- brightly between the 
lames of two waxen tapers, that it was not dif- 
ficult to ■ imagine an irradiation round his 
forehead, like that sometimes given by point- 
ers to the 'god of verse and 'of the lyre. The 
loom was 'warm ; and small -particles of mois- 
ture had oozed through the pores of his spotless 
skin/ and -glistened like points of diamonds. 

; fdomen was ''standing near me, and' said in a 
lowtorie, " does he not -'seem some creatine 
of mythology, with flesh composed of ambrosia 
and ichor instead of mortal 'blood-; are not the 
giiblte'e- and' beautiful united and personified ia 
Mint In height and outline might; I13 not h 
the model for a warrior 1 And yet the cole;,..; 
that • adorn him are rnore delicate than therms 
admired 'even in the fairest damsel ! Ao th:s 
body of Hector when dragged on thti earth 
round the city buluv^d of 'Vbira;i .;<:-.;, ■>:-. ;;l < 



THE SIIUNGJ3E. 21 

ed from every wound an.4 stain ; so the b$aiv> 
2y of this r being of our world, seems protected 
foy some deity- from all the wounds aijd stales 
fl»f ipcip^tajity. 

The eyes of all in the room weie. attracted^ 
at this moment, towards the stranger, and the 
words of Madam Burleigh were not heard, ex- 
cept by the friend who. was listening to her,—- . 
I feared lest the. feelings of the woman were 
combined with those of the artist : yet even 
if so,, 1 knew the character of Idomen ; I trem- 
bled not for her honor, but I feared for he? 
life or tranquillity* 

On the following day before twe!Ye 5 1 again 
nought the dwelling of Burleigh, and found the 
young mother engaged, as was her custom, in 
instructing hex fair-haired boy, 

I brought with me "Les Incas™ for Idomen, 
when I first knew her, Md wished, as I remem- 
bered, for that alone of all the writings of Mar.- 
DM>ntei I waited for some lunisehokl arrange- 
ments i then desired her to read to me. a little, 
$s had once been her pleasure. 

Madam Burleigh met nay request with the 
same eompliance as ever, hut her lips pro- 
nounced as if by mechanism. Her thoughts 
■:jouM not be fixed on the subject before hex 3 
the quickened heating of her heart was. seen 
through \\w white " inorr»ing -robe^ - 18$.^ *MS£ 
cheeks wore red with the fereirof^^itf Pif^f . 

" Have you dreamed," i said, £S of your beiviv 
1- ful .<«ie&t V u l km e not dreamed^ 7 answer- 
b2 



28 IDOMEN. 

Idonien, "but here are some verses that I tad 
jjtsst written down, when little Aryan returned 
.from walking." * * # ° * m . 

Ethelwald, as I anticipated, was the subject 
of the' verses. They were smooth, glowing, 
and' full' of -such classical allusions, as might 
naturally he brought to memory by the scene 
of the preceding evening j still I was happir 
to find in them more of the fervor of taste than 
the disorder of a newly conceived love. 

I asked many questions of her who stood 
blooming before 'me, for I wished to discover, 
if possible, what channel her thoughts might 
have taken. Idomen answered with perfect 
artlessness $ she delighted to speak of the beau- 
tiful Canadian, hut the terms of her praises, 
extravagant as they were 3 seemed scarcely, 
even to me, exaggeration. 

She did not know the nature of her senti- 
ments, neither could I at first divine them.-— 
Accustomed to the ties and restraints of her 
early union, Madam Burleigh never thought, 
for a moment, of any delight inconsistent with 
them. Admiration for this object filled the 
void in her heart, and was indulged in with 
perfect innocence. Those feelings which des- 
troy the health and peace of the lover, had ne- 
ver jet been awakened. The warmth of a 
passionate soul seemed directed from its usual 
' course, and entirely subjected to the empire 
"of. a guileless intellect. She could, even at 
'that period, have knelt at the feet of the chef 



THE STBJ.HGEB* 29 

d 7 ceuvre ■ of Nature that enchanted her ; hut 
the slightest breath of sensuality -would have 
caused an excess of pain, by turning the cur- 
rents of her thoughts from that course of ethe- 
rial ecstacy irf which they were free to wander,, 

After this I 'could conceive of the sentiment 
which animated Petrarch of Italy, when he re- 
fused the offer of the pontiff, his patron ; and 
declined receiving in marriage that Laura, the 
mere thought of whose displeasure could de- 
prive him of peace and. of health. ( l2 ) 

Ethelwald, at this time ? was also peculiar in 
mind as in .person ; in him appeared none of 
the grossn ess or selfishness of a young votary 
of pleasures. he listened to his own praises 
with a species of gratitude 5 and no feeling of 
vanity could have induced him to cause inju- 
ry to her who so freely bestowed them. Be- 
fore I left the house of Burleigh, he had come 
with Pharamond'Lloyde, and brought copied 
music to. Idomen. I listened awhile to their 
songs and conversation, then withdrew to 
look after my affairs, and reflect upon the 
destinies of those whom I had left to a few 
fleeting moments of present happiness. 

Ethelwald., at an early age, had entered the 
British army, in Canada ; and after the victory 
of the allied powers at Waterloo, had remained 
two years in Europe* Bu_Lin_Jkat_xaoiounct 
peace which succeeded the" fall of Napoleon, 
the services of young_officers_w^e-not needed;, 
und lie was &ow- returning; on4i&li-|myj^o4iv#- 



30 .iXJOMEN* 

with Ms father, oa the. banks of his: native St» 

' , Iisvreftce.. ...... 

-^^In-walkmg-thTpugMhe streets, of P-*— d, 

after leading: the: house of Idoimen, I twice met 
this young Canadian, The day was pleasant. 

He wore a neat blue undress, such as was com- 
.hiob -at that time to: Englishmen of -his quali- 
ty 1 , ffis cheeks glowed with the. coolness of 
the air;.- and a. travelling cap of dark fur, was 
gilded and relieved by the hair that curled in 
light ringlets around it. 

His mien, gait, and- stature, united with so 
uncommon a face, were- sufficient to call forth 
surprise from all the sober citizens of P— — d, 
who were passing to or. from their employ- 
ments j while little children, who were. return- 
ing from school gazed steadfastly awhile, on 
the stranger, or uttered exclamations of delights 

Phararaond Lloyde was to return to Canada 
very soon | and I knew, would come with his 
friend to take leave of Madam Burleigh, before 
©¥ening on the following day. I yielded to 
the wish to be present at this interview,, and 
sought the tasteful home of the woman I most 
admired. 

£thelwald occupied a part of the sofa where 
Idomen was sitting ; and both endeavored to 
persuade her cousin to stay another week at 
P~~--~ — <L Lloyde said it was. impossible to 
he . longer from Quebec ; and some «iream- 
stance, as it appeared, compelled Mb brilliant 
companion; torbear him company. 



THE WUAWGEIU It 

Idomen -had yielded her Imagination entire- 
ly to the -influence of the scene. "Well/' said 
she 1 , '" may I desire you to remain, — you seem 
to me like -an incarnation of the Bun>~~-like a 
living Apollo/ In your presence I forget that 
there is any thing like pain in existence !-*• 
When I look -at you and hear yon speak, I feel 
as if transported to the regions of beauty and 
of music*" 

These praises were not lost on the Canadi- 
an 5 though born and educated amidst the 
snows and forests of the St. Lawrence, he had 
wandered through the galleries of the Louvre, 
where all those chefs cfceuvre were assembled, 
which, after the fall of Napoleon, were res- 
tored to the cities that bemoaned them ; and a 
natural taste for the beautiful had made him a 
lover of the arts. 

The winter sun was declining and the guests 
aro'se'-to depart, A small present of music was 
laid! upon her piano, and accepted by Idotnen. 
The young men took : t heir leave-in the Eng- 
lish manner ; a shake and pressure of the hand, 
and an utterance of the words, " God bless 
y on ! " 'Pharamond assume d the right ■ of con- 
sanguinity, and touched his lips to those of 
Ms bio oming cousin. The -friend who -so late- 
ly hadlbeen likened to an Apoll o, '0TiB~igcai3 Bfr 
tionofthe sun, seemed -wishing to follow h is 
example; -and -was withheld iess, -perhaps, : by 
the immediate presence -of 'Othe^tnaii Hy-lhat 
strong' sense of -'xe&pect - and .prof kie^JgLea- 



3£ idoiiei:, 

credly observed both by French and' English 
Canadians, when admitted to the drawing-room 
of a lady. 

Madam Burleigh ran through the passage, 
and accompanied her visitors to the door 5 
which they closed gently after them, because 
of the coldness of the air* The wood fire fell 
in the drawing-room, and while I hastened to 
look at it, the latch of the street door was 
touched from without. It was Ethalwald ; he 
had returned a moment, and asked of Idomen, 
in a low hurried tone, a kiss such as had "been 
giren to her couqin. A few words ensued and 
lie was gone. 

In a moment, my friend was in the room ; a 
little agitated, but radiant with warmth and 
animation, "Bid you grant his request ? 5J I 
said. Idomen answered, " am I not a wife X — - 
Stranger as he is, why should he so have re- 
turned 1 — and yet he only asked of me the 
same proof of friendship I had given, in his 
presence to Pharamond ; I need not have been 
so cold j and now I suppose, he will forget me l n 

The sweet toned bell of the plantation, at 
this moment, sounded. The homr of nine ItLid 
arrived, and the negroes of the field wore re- 
tiring to sleep in their cottages, not far from 
' the principal dwelling. 

D&leour led me to the hail, where an other 
Ught-jepafit-wjis awaiting us, 
- $mall--b£?ds.-a&d shell -fish fxom the bay- or 



THE. STRANGER. 33 

liver, were served with -wine of Bordeaux, and 
followed by fruits and coffee. 

The same two young negresses appeared as 
before, with their collars and bracelets of the 
grains of the ccjral plant 5 their turbans of blue 
handkerchiefs, and their short robes .or tunics 
of clean linen, bound by girdles of crimson ten- 
drils ; while below them, their jetty ancles were 
conspicuously circled with scarlet bracelets of 
grains like those about their arms. 

hi'iTn.ax Tl/v^KdriiayvQo at c& cnnnnll j-l <-vt -t-cn T-ra-i^t *a -ago- -g*-»- j-* 

ty, were brought to us in baskets, woven for 
the occasion, "of the same broad, fresh green 

leaves which had shaded them while grow- 
ing. ( 13 ) 

The rind had ' been stript from the mellow 
fruit, which before was bursting from it ; and 
the luscious straw-colored pulp looked as if 
beginning to melt upon the green rural vessel 
that supported it. 

We -soon arose from supper and retired to 
the piazza, Ambrosio complained of fatigue ; 
lie had written, his " scguidillas" and "billets- 
douoe" tohis pretty c Cubana,' and his thoughts 
were sti.ll absent and wandering* -about the long 
lashes of her eyes and the glossy black tress- 
es of her hair. After bidding' good night in 
Spanish, he retired to his sylvan apartment ; en- 
tered a bath formed of the hollow trunk of a palm 
tree, prepared in a little alcove, and curtained 
wltii muslin like his bed. Clean and refresh- 

b5 



ted on it Mb owe travelling pillow ©f silk coh- 
ered with lawn, -placed himself in an attitude 
of luxurious repose, and thought till he ctreaai- 
q[ Raphaeki. 

I soon rose to follow -my friend, hut the 
night seemed too lovely for - sleep. My kind 
host stood before me 'in all the beaiiteoosness 
of age as described by a bard of Britain. His 
every feeling was -awakened by the story he 
might never relate again-' The moonlight 
seemed melting over his thick silver hair .and 
linen dress. He looked ac if loth to retire 5 
and I entreated Mm to continue his story. 



THE DISCOVERY. 

Bale our soon drew me towards a sofa, wo- 
ven of bajuca by one of his skillful negroes, 
and drew forth footsools of the same sylvan 
material. After seeing me at ease, he remain- 
ed aWhile absorbed' in recollection. The per- 
fume of the- flowers -came gently wafted over 
ns; and the charm of pleasure and repose 
seemed Wended with his melancholy accent:;., 
m he again proceeded in his story. * 

"Soon 'after the ■ scene depicted, I leftag&ja 
the -country of Idonienyand was con strain eel to 
make -several voyages between France and rev- 
dstio&iz&i-Hayti. The little I had embarked 
ra^comm^ree, was, at length, sttccsBduL 1 



THE D1SCQTERY. 35? 

had been- to this island and was. soothed, The 
softness of its climate, — thewildness of its re* 
gossgs,— -the surprising quickness of its vege- 
tation, — all combined to fix the wavering 
choice of one w{Lose hopes had often been scat- 
■;eTed„ I had found here- also, a friend, an ex- 
cellent and honorable German, He saw this 
spot where a little coffee had been planted, and 
learned that its. possession was within the nar- 
row limits of nay fortune, Authorized by let- 
ters, he obtained it for me ; and hither, at last 
I came, and found solace and amusement ir. 
making these little arrangements which d.ow 
call forth your approval. 

More than frre years had elapsed since I saw 
and admired Madam Burleigh. My letters to 
her husband 7 had now, for two years, been un- 
answered, Believed feoni the bustle of com- 
xneree, I began to reflect* more intensely on 
what might be the probable destiny of th-s 
woman he had cherished and protected,. I re- 
solved to go again to P— —a,, and waited but 

to plant my estate- 
Penetrating a, few leagues into the country 
T;o procure young coffee and fruit trees, 1 turn- 
ed, as is usual for solitary travellers, from the 
rough, unpleasant highway, into- the, alley s of 

a fine coffee plantation, J niuanaaearo* 

A few mfiInentB-hrm^gk^ffi^4o-4h# ^ ^^l^^l , 
"lie principal entrance, A noble a¥eaue ? half 
an English mile in length and leading- ioitke - 
'-'■■ ctixt gtmof!&" xfr it&iwe rf -the— fflastarwas- 



36 IDOMEN. 

shaded "by palm, orange, and mango- trees.-— 
Between these were planted roses, oleanders ? 
jessamines, tuberoses, and many other shrubs 
and flowers emitting" a grateful odour. 

At convenient distances were seals, shelter- 
ed by arches of lattice work, and covered,. 
lilce those before us, with vines of the passicn 
flower, convolvulus, and many other odorous 
cieepers, whose nature it is- to climb in 
wreaths, and attach themselves with, tendrils. 

I felt inclined to alight ; and left my h orse 
to the care of the ne^ro who followed me- walk- 
ing slowly- forward through the shade, I soon 
found myself in front of a small edifice standing 
a little back from the avenue,, and adorned with 
jessamines and lyrias. 

It was a temple built of the lime stone, abun- 
dant in all its neighborhood, which still lay in 
heaps in the higher and' less cultivated parts 
of the plantation. 

The little- structure was elevated four steps 
from the earth, havin/r in front, an entablature 
supported by four white cohmms, in good at^ 
cor dance with the rules of jDnric architecture. 
■ A French overseer stood at the door, and 
invited me to enter. The ceiling within was 
slightly concave ; and the building seemed 
have served fox a library and music room.- 
Books were- seen packed in boxes-; and a fe 
pictures and ornaments had lieen taken dov 
from the walls, 



v>j> 



THE DISCOYEEY* 37 

deceased 5 and the face of the man who "bad 
me welcome was shaded with melancholy. — - 
His late employer, he said, was from the north, 
and the building- we were in had been erected 
by a lady, his niece, who came to the island in 
deep mourning j ^nd who, a few months before 
the sudden, death of her uncle, had been sum- 
moned, by a letter, to leave the pleasant place 
she had made and visit a relation in Canada* 

In a coiner of the room stood a little basket 
containing- what appeared to be slips of waste 
paper. I took it to the window, and how was 
I surprised, to see fragments of torn verses., 
in the hand writing of Women ! 

1 asked many questions of the a administra- 
dor." He knew little of the lady, except that 
she was kind and courteous, and that she some- 
times seemed afflicted j that the planters of the 
neighborhood had spoken much about her be- 
cause of the singularity of her pleasures and 
employments, when contrasted with their own 
pursuits ) and because, though still young and 
said to he without fortune, she seemed indiffer- 
ent to establishing herself in marriage ; she 
was fond of flowers, and had rode and rambled 
much about the fields ; and when her library 
was finished, she had passed in it a part of ev- 
ery morning. 

I now rernemoercu. tiiai AiiOmen nau to hi 111*3 
of an uncle, riyii;, in en, tve iiaci lived j txaci 
here, had probably, been past the first year of 



38 . IDQKBM., 

to. lave* but Women: was now a waaderei* She 
mslu gone 'to- -visit her cousin Riaramond at 
Quebec*. Amid, the ^now§ and ice of, the : St. 
Lawrence,. . who .would supply ■ for her the 
warmth of a .tropical;, sua 1 , 1 thought of the 
handsome Ethelwald, and felt, fox her, I knew 
not what of solicitude* 

. - I retained thoughtfully to- my home, which. 
tfreo, had not, ha4 time to bear its present as- 
pect of adornment. I immediately wrote to 
Madam Burleigh, and wished her all happiness 
and peace; yet offered, if adversity should 
threaten her, my humble roof and all that re- 
mained to me for her protection* 

For two months I went not even to Matan- 
zas | every day was pased; in marking out im- 
provements, directing my workmen, and plan- 
ting trees and shrubs, which, needed little cars 
.cave that of nature . ( u ) 

My German friend had gone to> reside at 
Havana ; and I had been entirely careless of 
what .transpired in my neighborhood. At length 
1 rode to the smiling town, to. purchase wine 
and linen for my household. 

Near the margin of the Yumuri, not a half 
league from my own dwellings I observed, fe 
.the first, time, a small house, .ornamented with 
boxes of flowers, and giving proof of more care 
than is common with the inhabitants of this 
island* A white 'femaje servant stood at the 
door of the principal apartment, and I rm-J 
within hooksj picture^ and apknc fotto- 



THE .D18-C0VB1Y* 30 

In the course of the -morning, 1 enquired of 
a -foreign merchant, whether strangers had 
lately arrived 1 "-Madam Burleigh/ 5 answer- 
ed the Englishman, ox as out Spanish friends 
call her, "Dona Icbmen" has come, and lives 
alone, with her servant, though safe in being 
Sicar a Spanish family. The lady is said to be 
amiable, hut singular in her tastes, "What 
friends can she possess, who have suffered he? 
to come unprotected to a eoustry like-tMs h— 
She has no doubt returned to look after a be* 
queathment of her uncle Llewellyn Lloyde, 
■with whom she lately passed a year, on his es- 
tate, at Guamacaro, It is about six month-i 
since he died suddenly. 

I waited to hear :hg more, but concluded my 
business as speedily as possible ; and at the de- 
cline if the sun 3 stopped at the dwelling I had 
remarked in the morning. It had been" a full 
naonthj tenanted by Madam Burleigh. 

Idomen leceived -me -half screaming with 
joy and astonishment. The live past years had 
left no traces on- her countenance. Her per«» 
son was simply but carefully adorned-; and her 
cheeks, neck, -and arms, displayed' the -soft 
roundness of health- Her dress -was Mack hat 
light, thin and graceful ; and a few jessamines 
and orange blossoms were fragrant in 'her fair 
braided hair. 

Idomen,_I said ? we meet _a^ajnjpxmjiconso- 
lation. I know -not what r.i:v- invr: u-jfrU -.=:.- 
jon : hut now, at leaat, you -seem in. hope and. 



40 IDOMEM. 

in. health ; you have, -not yet reached the age 

of Sappho when she perished at Leueate \ but 
happy am I that no Phaon has been your fes- 
truction. Tears were .my answer, but they 

were tears of a softened recollection. 

My servants and. horses were weary, end 
longed, for their own nightly shelter. 1 took 
leave of -my newly found hope, but not before 
having tendered her my eternal friendship, and 
the utmost IpossesecL either of life- or its sus- 
tenance. 

I soon passed the. wood, regained nay own 
piazza, and threw myself into a hammock, hot 
the charming events of the day had indispos- 
ed me for sleep. My negroes, pleased with 
my return) served my evening repast with all 
that they could of alacrity. 

My white " administrador" reported the a- 
moimt of labor j my four black " may or ales" 
came to. pay their respectful -obeisance, and to 
speak to me of their own affairs, either of love 
or convenience. ' One asked for his favorite in 
marriage, another to rebuild his cottage thatch- 
ed with palm leaves. 

Having dismissed them all to their rest, 
and taken a bath of malva* I sought at tie 
hour of eleven, a sofa in this same piazza, like ' 
this which now fctipporls ±u» Alas ! how dif- 
ferent were my feelings ! 

*A halh with aa infusion ofmslva, is held in great es~ 
by tiie " Culaiuu. 9> It is .said, by thcui, to allay fever, 

sad to heal the syelcm alia Uriiiscs. or ft-.ii? j u -, 



THE DISCOVERY* 41. 

The sky with all its constellations looked blue 
and beautiful as it now looks, These" flowers 
returned not their fragrance as I breathed 5 but 
all were planted and springing to luxuriance. 

The scenes of strife and danger I had pass- 
ed, returned but in dim perspective to my 
soothed imagination, I looked out upon my 
little domain, with a sense of security and 
pleasure, My watch dogs slept j the negro who 
ke»t ffuaid at my sheltered norlaL sounded a 
few notes on a pipe of his own construction. 
His sable favorite heard, and crept softly to 
rejoin him, through the budding coffee trees ; 
bearing a present of ground nuts or "monies" 
from her own garden, and roasted at the night- 
ly fire that still burned in front of her cottage,* 

The wild ipomea waved her delicate t end- 
rills, as if preparing" to embrace my newly root- 
ed bamboos. The night blooming Cereus was 
ready to spring open in the woods 5 the dew 
fell warmly in the moonlight ; — all was teem- 
ing- and quick with the life of vegetation. 

Mow strongly doth hope entwine herself 
with the sensations of man j she reddens his 
lip when a child, and follows, playing with Mb 
silver .hair, even to the brink of his last zesting: 



* in the hottest nLjhLfi within the: tropica the .negroes 
are ibail of .fire, and vv.1'11., if allowed*, ?u<:ei> very n*ar it, — • 
Accidents, hov/ev {jr., v/uro :-;o ire-} iieut 3 tfutt oa luany ss-» 
.'-■l-.i;::: Li uuLu, their ii res noiiifi only Ik; kindled on the 

ground without tliel? cottages* 



#2 IDOMEtf. 

1 was happy, 1 knew not why. Sixty sum- 
mers bad' passed over my misfortunes. Bid 1 
hope that Idomen would devote her glowing 
years to my solitude % — No I The power that 
lias granted tMs blooming shelter to the needs 
of my declining age, knows well that I wished. 
not a sacrifice. To sooth and protect was all 
—and that was enough for my happiness. 

Daleour was silent a moment, and I saw, by 
the moonbeams, that tears were trickling from 
his eyes. He arose, walked into the hall, 
and awakened a negro 3 who, with turban of 
blue handkerchief, and bracelets of vegetable 
coral, on his arms and ancles, was steeping 
with smiles upon his mat and blanket — Benito 
awoke slowly ; but perforated as soon as he 
arose, an unripe cocoa 'nut, filled two goblets 
with its cool * delicious liquid, and presented 
them to us, on one of the leaves of its tree 
which he had twisted and woven into a salver. 

The friend of Id omen soon gained his com- 
posure. He ' quaffed the sweet nutrition and 
spoke a word to the negro. Benito went out 
and returned with a napkin and a cup, borne 
upon the same salver of cocoa-leaf, and formfe- 
ed pf the shell' of a ripe nut, filled with water, 
pure from the filtering stone, and scented with- 
blossoms of the_orange tree* 

^ '"The milk or juice of the cocoa-nut, eoi io obtained 
in. large quantities* only while the ciiell of the r«ut iu gr-x-a 
and leader. 



THE DISCOVERY . 43 

My sensitive host bathed his eyes, lips and 
fosehead, and received a newly opened cluster 
of tuberoses from the hand of the faithful Ben- 
ito, whose Spanish good night was returned 
with benignant courtesy. 

We both s&t down again upon the sofc. of 
iajuca j Dalcour handed me the flowe? > and 
seemed pleased thus to resume his story t 

Early the next morning 1 repaired to the 
house of Maclam Burleigh attended by the good 
boy Benito, who had found for her breakfast 
some ripe fig-bananas and an avocado pznr^= 
that fruit Of vegetable marrow so .cooling and 
grateful to the palate, when eaten with the 
light bread of Matanzas, 

It was nine o'clock when we arrived* The 
convolvulus was still unwiltedby the sun, and 
.ihemalva with its yellow blossoms, was spread 
like a carpet near the threshold, 

jEdomen stood at the door to rec€ive us*-— 
She was dressed in a white morning robe, af- 
ter the English manner, and a passion flower, 
of a small singular variety, was placed amid the 
natural curls on the left side of her forehead. 
Hex whole aspect was serene, and fresh as the 
air she was breathing. Unequal in years and 
horn in a distant quarter .of the worlds she met 
me with all the heart healing- delight jftC-B^per- 
rfee t and unwiloy^d'eonfideaee, — 

Not far from our view,- flowed- the -smooth 
^rsf»m Yurnuri. The hills rose on w left, 
■covered with gtpT*v*t *wrWe and cwwtwd with 



44f ' IDOMEW. ' 

a few palmettos, whose plumy tops' were wa- 
ving' softly in the sun. 

I held a moment the hand of Women, and": 
was happy. The moaning of the smaller do^/e 
was heard from a neighboring thicket of shrubs 
bound together with lianas ; but a black vul- 
ture, descended and stalked before 'us in g" 
my stateliness. I' looked at the bird and shod. 
deied. 



o^-> 



THE CONFESSIONS, 

Madam Burleigh told me, that for a year, 

she had not read. To think of the scenes 
that had past, was now, sufficient amuse- 
ment for her hours of pleasure and reflection. 
The recent events of reality were still passing 
in her memory, and affected more intensely her 
thoughts than even those works of feeling" and 
fancy which had once so strongly attracted 
■her./", ■■ ; ■ ' • 

cc I am/ 5 she said, " surprised at my own 
contentment. Before Isawyou, I had no cer- 
tain good in. view, yet despite of all that kit; 
■befallen me 5 I have felt, since established in 
this cottage, as if sustained by some pleaame 
hope*-- --- - - - - . - - . 

Happy climate, I exclaimed, what a power 
dost thou possess of thro win k? a bright "mi,jU" 



THE CONFESSIONS. 45 

veil over every obtrusive recollection! Ido* 
men, you have accepted my friendship ; — you 
do not doubt my integrity. Tell me, then, all 
that has passed to you. Confide in me, even 
as in thy God when thou addressest thyself to 
him in prayer! ,• 

This speech- "brought tears to her eyes,—- 
Sweet, sweet tears of gratitude- and guileless 
confidence ! who else had ever dropped them 
for me % ■<■,■■■■ 

JSonls have existence upon earth, fully capa- 
ble of friendship! but scattered are they, far 
apart, by time, circumstance, and that pride 
which shudders at rejection, How many pass 
to the grave, without knowing even one fel- 
low being I How pines, in secret, the solitary 
philanthropist, who wastes his benevolence up- 
on ingrates 5 and lavishes upon those who heed 
it not, that love of which the mere knowledge 
would have been heaven to a bosom of recipro- 
city! 

The breakfast table was occupied and re- 
moved. We retired to a little boudoir separa- 
ted by a white curtain from the principal apart- 
ment. Here stood a sofa, and near it a small 
work-table, adorned with a vase of tuberoses, 
pomegranate and lime blossoms. 

Women sat clown and busied her hands as 
when I first had known, her,-- -I- plaeedr-m-yself 
Ijy her side on The~sola, and^nlreated^hef^o 
■describe to mo the'days of Ilex absence* - - 

" Life-, 33 she said. " was new when I first saw 



4$ IDOMJEN. • 

-you at' P~ i— • ■ t — d. A void was In my heart, 

•Jbut misery, save that of many griefs in child- 
Iiopdy I never yet; had tasted. 

■"After my cousin andEthalwald had depart* 
edandyou, my friend were, gone, perhaps -neve? 
to return, I began to reflect on my condition. 
Our affairs grew worse and worse. Vessel 
.after vessel had 'been taken at sea, and Burleigh. 
.my husband, sought relief from his fears, in 
§uch amusements as suspended recollection. 
A stranger to need and fee economy, his expen- 
ses increased with his misfortunes. 

" I lingered sadly at home, took eare of my 
darling boy, and endeavored to make what 
little retrenchment I could^ to avert, if possi- 
ble, the ruin which I knew was pending. 

£i The neighbors who surrounded us became 
3eos w.arm in their attentions. 'I foresaw 
from the first, what every thing would come 
to/ said a lady who came to visit me. i Mrs. 
Burleigh, 5 said another, 'your piano, I am 
afraid, must soon be closed. * I foresee that you 
must soon be obliged to make a change in your 
way of living.' . I, too, foresaw enough. I 
knew that some change must be at hand, hut 
a vague hope sustained me. 

" Our table had been hospitable, our doors 
open to many; but to part with our well garnish- 
ed dwellings had now become inevitable. We 
retired with one servant^ to a remote house of 
meaner dimensions ; and were sought 110 lon- 
ger by those T/ho had come in our wealth. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 47 

a I looked earnestly around me 5 the present 
was -cheerless, the future, dark and fearful.-—' 
My parents were dead, my few relatives in 
distant countries, where they thought, perhaps, 

little of my happiness, 

" Burleigh I never had loved, other than as a 
father and protect ox 3 hut he had been the ben- 
efactor of my fallen family, and to him I owed 
comfort, education, and every shadow of plea- 
sure, that had ever glanced before me, in this 
woria« j>ux xue sun oi uis energies was set- 
ting, and the faults' which had balanced his 
virtues, increased as bis fortune declined. — - 
Ke might live through many years of misery ; 
and to be devoted to him was my duty while 
a spark of his life endured. I strove to nerve 
fliy heart for the worst. Still there were mo- 
Meats when fortitude became faint with endu- 
rance j and visions of happiness that miglr"; 
have been mine, came smiling to my fevered 
imagination. I wept and prayed in agony, 

" Still heaven was kind to me, fori felt riot 
the suffering of want. The disgusting lamp, 
with its oil of sea animals, took the place of 
my neat waxen tapers ; but my rooms were 
decent and comfortable, and my -wood fire well 
supplied. 

" Burleigh passed many of his evenings, I 
knew not where. Perhaps it was a fault that I 
never had complained; of his absence, and. that 
i forbore reproach, and shrank when rough 
answers were made to me. 



4S IDGMEN, 

" My little Arvon said his prayers and went 
early to bed, and many a long 'hour I sat alone 
arranging his garments and my own. My 
hands were employed, hut thought could -not 
"be confined. 

11 During evenings like these, fancy .wander- 
ed sometimes in pleasant fields, and many vers- 
es came flowing to be arranged, and were writ- 
ten on slips of paper in my work basket. 

- Wakeful, sometimes, in the night, I listened 
to the moaning of the winds of winter, and to 
the breathing of my sleeping husband ; begui- 
ling my fears of what might come, by think- 
ing of plans for its endurance. 

" In these reYeries, I said in my heart, i when 
a little child I could make verses, I will strive 
to excel in Poetry- The poets are distinguish- 
ed | fame attracts friends, and if I can have 
friends, sincere and elegant friends, poverty. 
and seclusion will be nothing. . Alas ! how was 
I mistaken! 5 "..,.. 

In uttering this exclamation, Idomen became 
disconcerted. She dropped, awhile, the cam- 
bric she was sewing, and half concealed her 
face with a cluster of flowers that I had brought 
for her. Their odour was powerful, resem- 
bling that of the little plant mignionette ; I had 
plucked them from a : tender tree that I had 
brought, for its fragrance, from Guamacaro ; 
and 1 now blest them for their influence. 

Women subdued her emotion* My eyes 
were £xed. on her, and she seemed to divine 



THE CONFESSIONS. 49 

that I was reading her inmost thoughts. c I 
will tell you all, 3 she said, * and yet, in those 
dark moments I have described, I thought of 
the stranger Ethalwald, only as a picture I had 
seen, or as the beautiful delineation of some 
poet. 

4 Could i even have seen him, in those days, I 
would not for worlds that he should have look- 
ed upon my xmhaippiness. In my former plea- 
sant drawing room, I had sighed for the im- 
age (when it came smiling to my soul,) that I 
now endeavored to banish from a dwelling- 
place that seemed to me so dreary. 

4 In this secluded dwelling-place my first 
crime was committed — do not start or shrink 
at the word ! — crime, indeed it was, but a crime 
that passed only in intellect, — this material 
form that your early praises conspired, ©h! 
my friend, to make me value, has been guard- 
ed, in kindness, by heaven V 

" I felt assured, but said only : This, indeed, 
is thy promise., continue. She paused a mo- 
ment and resumed : £ The man of the world, 
might laugh 5 — the prude, male or female^ 
might condemn. In my own bosom I felt 
sometimes- half guilty, and sometimes grateful 
to providence for the amusement and solace 
afforded me. Crime, even though it were, it 
healed my sickening spirit, and sav-ecLme r -jiei- 
haps 3 from the gloomy prostration of des- 
pair. 

c 



§0 IBOMEN. 

{ There lived at P — -. — ^ d an uncommon man, 
descended from some of the Scottish settlers 
of New England. His name was Birkmoor 
Grant. He had passed with reputation, through 
one of the. best Universities of the New 
World,. 

6 In a country where wealth is divided, and 
few individuals have much, the merit and 
learning of Grant obtained for him sufficient 
distinction. He had risen by his qualities and 
efforts, above the restraints of poverty, and 
moved in the most refined circles of merch- 
ants whose earnings had escaped the wreck of 
wars and of winds., and of men who had studi- 
ed at school and were successful in the learn- 
ed professions. In the cities of the North 
American Kepuhlic, such are the only nobility. 
Birkmoor Grant, when a little child, had suf- 
fered the sorrows of an orphan.; and seemed 
ta have feeling and taste. 

c In a note, written amidst a thousand topes 
and fears, I sent to him requesting an inter- 
view, and received him with trembling*, when 
h& came,, yet succeeded, at last, in expressing 
the desire I had formed of publishing some of 
my verses. 

' Oh ! my ever valued friend, whom heaven 
allows me-, to ' meet .again, in the solitude of 
tills island^ after. bo many eventful years ! the 
praises, fopt received from yon in the snowy 
region of my birth," were then still resound cif- 



THE CONFESSIONS, 51 

in. my heart, and gave courage to impart my 
design, 

4 1 spoke with emotion and earnestness § 
Grant heard me with attention) and promised to 
lend me his assistance, 

4 1 now became happier than before ; charmed 
and amused, 1 went cheerfully through, the la- 
bors of my little liouschold 3 copied, translated 
and composed. 

■' Secluded from the world, and pained by th-3 
cold regards of some whom I had known in 
better fortune, the visits of Birkmoor Grant af- 
forded me the utmost relief. He looked over 
my verses and my prose'; scrutinized and prais- 
ed, 

4 Save a few, my dear friend, shown to you, 
these verses, which then became so great a so- 
lace to me, had never been read by any mor- 
tal. Burleigh, my husband, so far from culti- 
vating letters, very seldom even read or wrote 5 
even his letters on business were written by 
others at his dictation. Still, nature bad im- 
planted in him, the highest and most perfect 
veneration for learning and the elegant arts j 
and no student or tyro, ever asked him in vain 
for a subscription. 

4 Persons like this overrate the ability of oth- 
er;-;; liis.rlc5.gii declared himself no judge of what 
I wi'Ote, but favored the visits of Grant, and saw 
how my hours were employed wrth-satisfiae**-- 
tion and encouragement. 
c2 



.52 1DGMEN* 

6 Caution and coldness characterize) it is 
said, men of the Northern republic. Of the first, 
Btrkmoor Grant had his share ; yet his actions 
to me, were most friendly 5 and the fervor of a 
gratitude, expressed from the depths of ray 
soul, threw him. sometimes off his guard, &iid 
drew from him words of passion. 

4 Your visits, I said, with a little music aird 
poetry, are, now all the pleasure'of my exis- 
tence ! At the future I dare not look : — the 
prospect is too doubtful — too dismal. May I 
even hope, always*, for your friendship. "Al- 
ways, so help me God I" was the answer. — 
He was pale, he trembled, and drops of perspi- 
ration appeared and stood upon his forehead — 
How many oaths are littered that never reach 
even so deep as the memory of him who speaks 
them ! 

*This scene transpired of a morning, when 
he whom heaven had sent as* the friend of my 
dark hours, alone, was sitting, by my side, over 
a MSS.. which he had read, marked, and cor- 
rected. It was bet a momentary meeting of 
souls destined soon to be severed, or wrapt in 
that impenetrable envelop which shrouds the 
best thoughts of mortal beings. If we ever 
meet again, in time or eternity, g.:a..i" fade will 
still expand the sentiments of mine, ana his 
cannot suffer with remorse, for injury either 
done or caused to me. 

'Birkmoor Grant, when my friend, had reach- 



THE CONFESSIONS. 53 

ed the age of thirty, and passed as a model in 
morals and good conduct. His company was 
sought by the gayest circles around him ; and 
many a father and mother were pleased when 
lie visited their/ daughters;. His .person, he- 
sides, was excellent, in height, figure, and 
features; and his crisped hair, blacker than 
the raven of Canada, the snake of the Missis- 
sippi, or the vulture that stalked this morning 
by the limpid and flowery Yumuri, 

4 Besides these endowments of nature, which 
had been trained to produce more effect than 
is common with men of his country and pro- 
fession, the manners of Grant were cultivated 5 
and he piqued himself on being able to shot up 
his books^ and to look when he pleased,- like a 
man of the world. 

4 1 often wrote pages merely fo? the pleasure 
of hearing him read a few words, His visits 
were frequent ; sometimes in the presence of 
Burleigh and my son 5 sometimes in my hours 
of solitude., •* 

c Often when drest for some neighboring ball 
or festival, he would come ere the. evening had 
advanced, and spend half an hour at our fire- 
side. At one of these intervals. I said to him, 
in sincerity : '• How kind of yon to remain here 
so long in quiet conversation with a recluse, 
while a circle of gay young" girls have, perhaps, 
fM.o-'i ;.h::-:i;.::nr. r i::; ■ pleasF 1 . \*0';., jmd '.-Sir now , 
perhaps, waiting in expectation, ' * Because,' 



§4' * iDOMEff. 

he answered, ''it is 1 here that 1 am to find my 
happiness*' 

' A shade of self-complacency marked the 
rest of his visit, as well as an evident satisfaction 
that his presence was; fully appreciated 5 ano. 
that his voluntary, absence from a more happy 
company was considered in the light of a sac- 
rifice. 

' i3\)*Jl\ U1M51." "Vino, iiieuu. iT;ai3vuiui l^oo ui g*"^ - 

tifci--!e. A year had passed in a pleasant and 
harmless friendship j but the motives of Giant 
were now changed and apparent. He uttered 
sentiments that I could not answer j and gave 
me to perceive, that beneath the veil of my re- 
tired misfortunes, he was capable of a deed that 
mast afterwards be concealed by falsehood. 

* Here, then, was my crime. I had not cou- 
rage to part with. his visits immediately. Do 
not start, my friend, or blame me too deeply. 

4 These visits were dangerous, but no more. 

* Could he basely avail himself of a weight of 
circumstances that I struggled continually to 
heart Could he sacrifice a sincere friend to 
himself, and conceal the deed by duplicity 1- A 
thought like that, alone was sufficient for my 
preservation. Yet, I suffered him to hope, fo," 
a. while, and to think himself completely belov- 
ed. _ That sufferance alone seemed a crime to 
me s and the -sense of a mental debasement, ad- 
ded at intervals to my torments, otill, his 
company continued to be a solace and amuse- 



THE CONCESSIONS. , 5y 

rnent ; til], at last, instead of reproaches I gave 
him o, copy of these verses, which were a close 
to our readings together in Italian; 

To meet a friendship such as mine. 
Such feelfngs rmrst thy soul refine 
As arc not oft of mortal birth: 
? Tis 'love without a stain, of earth, 
Fraiello del mio cor. 



Looks are its food, its nectar sighs, 
Its couch the lips, its throne the eyes. 
The soul its "breath, and so pbssest 
Heaven's raptures reign, in mortal breast, 
Fraiello del mio cor, 



Though friendship he its earthly name. 
Purely from highest heaven, it came; 
p Tis seldom, felt for more than one, 
And scorns to dwell "with Ysaus* nojn, 
Fraiello id mio cor. 



Him let it view not, or it dies 
Like tender hues ofmorning skies, 
Or morn's sweet flower of purple glow, 
VI hen sunny beams too ardent grow, 
Freddie del mio cor. 



A charm o s er every object plays, 
All looks so lovely, while it stay:;., 
So softly forth in rosier tides-, 
The; vital flood ecsiath: -/lidi..":, 

Frak'ilo del mio cor. 



f>6 IDOMEN. 

That wrong toy grief to see it part. 
A very life "drop leaves the heart ; 
Such drop, I need not tell thee ? fell^ 
While "bidding 1 it for thee., farewell. 
Frdtello del mio cor. 

c The habitual prudence of Grant preserved 
him, I doubt not, from pain — lie loved the less 
as lie esteemed the more ; and not very long 
after this, sought a girl of fortune in marriage. 
: £ 'I had no time to think of him more, for soon 
mf whole soul became absorbed, and every 
moment devoted. Poor Burleigh had caught 
a fever by a series of imprudent exposures, 
against which, all remonstrance had been vain. 
By Ms bed I continually watched, . reflecting- 
upon benefits received at his hands, and on the 
large amount ,of good dispersed, in the sphere 
around him. Wayward and petulant, immove- 
able in. will, and with character unformed, save 
by circumstances, his faults' had increased 
with, misfortune, ; but his soul remained full of 
generosity. He died, and rny boy was an or- 
phan. 

c Pale with grief and watching, I saw him de- 
posited in. the eartli 3 * and of those who had 
sought and received from him., a few appeared 
as my comforters. 3 

Dalcour arose, paced with me a few mo- ' 
rnents the leafy piazza, shook, the fi-a.grr.pce 
from a jessamine of Florida that hung like a 
curtain, between the rustic Tiilbmk and asked 



THE CONCESSIONS. 



ms if I was not yet weary of listening to the 
story he had begun. Pleased -with the melody 
of his voice, I had shared the melancholy plea- 
sure that he evidently took in its recital. 1 
plucked a rich carnation from a vase of lime- 
stone that stood. raised from the eaxth, and sat 
down again upon the sofa of bajuca, inhaling" 
the perfume o( the flower that so lately had 



jTixiiifiott,©'w. near in© 



DalcouT called to a negro who assisted. m 
kee-oinsr the niffht watch : a mocking bird of 
Virginia was soon hung in his cage, upon the 
lattice of grenadilla that 'overshadowed the 

fountain, and the notes of the bird, softened 
by a little distance, were heard at intervals, 
as the friend of idomen cozithiucd again, his 
recital : 

" Madam Burlcighliad paused, and I saw "hat 
she was agitated, Fearing to crchaust her too 
much, I arose to depart, recommended an 
ea:rly meal and siesta, and obtained from her 
a promise to ride with me, for health, &l the 
decline of the sun. . 

"Protected from the heat by an umbrella of 
peculiar construction, I rode slowly into thu 
town; procured neat: trapping's for a lady's; 
pony, LO'd returned to wait the time of the 
'paxse.o ill; my own growing" plantation. 

u At five o^clouk J" returned, again to the 
dwelling of Idomen, while Benito , my excel- 
k'Hi nenfi'ti tolloweu m my ith.ck. witn a wony 

itjtiltiU fi-H.:. iJiOjitJ.-.L III lilt; Ilf:i5riilKHii0ua. 



58 • IFQMEN. 

a For the use of ladies^ few horses - are more 
delightful than those of Cuba, and this was one 
of the most gentle. I had purchased him for 
his beauty, easy step, and obedience to the 
rein, and my heart now exulted in seeing him 
adorned for a friend, endeared to me by so 
many circumstance's.. 

" The saddle cloth Iliad procured in the mor- 
ning was blue bordered with yellow, and in the 
Spanish taste. Though favorable to tlie dress 
of the rider, I half regretted its concealment 
of the fine mottled sides of the « gentle gray 
creature, who curved his Reck as Mom en 
mounted to her seat. 

"Benito, my negro, loved the animal, and had 
taken of him unusual care. On this occasion 
he had fastened round his neck* a garland of 
my newly blown roses, and named the pretty 
creature as he stood still to receive this first 
ornament " Qjo-dulceJ* The, dress of Idonien 
was light gray, bordered with black 5 thrown 
open because of the warmth of the air, and 
showing frills of neat lawn at the neck, hands, 
and bosom. She wore on her head a fine 
palm-leaf hat of the country, surrounded by a 
wreath, woven, as she, waited my arrival, of 
blossoms- from an orange'' tree in her enclo- 
sure. 



"* It is not uncommo3i to see a ereolea'Ji horse Willi floff 
ere about hk keacl a;a<l neck.. ? 



THE CONFESSIONS. _ 59 

<c The sun was approaching his decline with 
hi ore than usual resplendency 3 and the ex- 
pressive face of my companion, seemed beam- 
ing with health and pleasure. Her light exer- 
cise ; — the odor of heir flowers ; — the colors of 
twilight ; — the malting, as it were, of the whole 
sky j — a sense, perhaps, also of confidence in 
my protection j — the whole charming present 
combined, had steeped for the moment her 
heart, as if in a flood of balm ; and scenes and 
beings at a distance, were banished awhile, 
even from that memory which so closely and 
constantly retained them. 

"A blood- warm bath, perfumed with orange 
flowers, and softened with an infusion of anal- 
va, is not more grateful to the form weary of 
exertion, than hours like that to souls thai 
have suffered from soirow, 

" We rode through Matanzas ;■ — it was the 
hour o( the pas&eo . N u in er o u s vol antes ad orn- 
ed with silken fringe and silver plating pass- 
ed each other in the streets, filled with ladies 
entirely unveiled and dressed for the evening. 
It was pleasant to hear the music of their greet- 
ings, and to see the quick, peculiar movement 
of their small hands, waved in salutation; yet 
we soon passed through the town towards the 
Rio San Juan., arid sought the cool borders of 
the buy. " ""'" ; ~"" " —r -— — 

" Refreshed by the "breeze ^f tlie^watefipWe 
rode slowly on till attracted by a group of trees 



60. 1DOMEN* 

placed by nature, in singular order, then alight- 
ed a moment from our horses, to examine the 
bowery retreat. 

"A wild fig tree had formed itself on an old 
wall* perhaps of some early Spanish settler,, for 
no vestige of the edifice remained, save only 
that portion which distinctly appeared through 
the meshes of the curfous plant, which rising 
above it in the air were^united in a stately trunk. 
Large masses of luxuriant foliage, extended 
themselves on high, in a circular form ; and 
relieved with their dark deep green, eight tall 
silver shafted palmettos -standing round it at 
a pleasing distance. / 

" The whole seemed.a temple of nature. Vi- 
sit it, when you ride with Ambrosio. Perhaps 
he will sketch it with his pencil. The spot to 
me had a charm, and indeed,, so had every thing 
beheld*on that day and lovelier evening. While 
we still lingered, looking alternately at the 
scene and the colors of the" sea and .sky, a gen- 
tleman passed us followed by two servants 
with laden horses, as if returning to the coun- 
try. He looked at us both with scrutiny, and 
saluted Idomen in Spanish by her christian 
name 5 she waved her hand with some emo- 

* In 1829, this singular group of trees was ' still stand- 
ing on a road bending near the bay of Matanzas, and 
leading into the country. The wild fig tree., or as the 
French call it, " figuier maudit," may be seen in Cuba., 
in every state of its curious and surprising formation. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 61 

tion and said, in return, i Vaya y senor, con 
Bios.' 

-" The sun was near sinking j yet the rider 
proceeded slowly ,vlooking back till we remoun- 
ted our horses. His name, said Idomen, is 
Belton ; I knew him at Guamaearo, as the very- 
intimate friend of my deceased uncle Lewel- 
lyn. f 

j ;.. u We passed , back through the town at a 
auickened : nace> for. at this time, but few vo~ 
lantes weve found lingering in the duskiness, 
I left Madam Burleigh at her door, promising 
to return the next morning after breakfast. — 
Assisted by Benito, I threaded my way through 
the dark wood, bending closely to the neck of 
my pony, to avoid the boughs and vines that 
swept over us, till we gained the commodi- 
ous avenue of my newly planted bamboos. 

" My contented negroes came severally to 
welcome my return. They had washed their 
arms and faces at their own tank, and brought 
with them little children to witness the safety 
of their master. 

w Supper was already spread, and as soon as 
I could I retired. But when bathed and com- 
posed upon my pillow, the looks of the stran- 
ger who had spoken to Idomen by the wild 
fig-tree, seemed present again ere I slept. 

"As soon as "the labors of another day were 
directed, I took with me again my faithful ne- 
gro, and repaired to the dwelling of mj friend, . 



$% . 1D0MEH. 

■"■■Benito brought ob his horB© a vase of tube- 
roses in water, together with the blossoms ©f 
that little tree, more fragrant than the inignob- 
nette of France ;■ covered, from the ! sun - ; with 
fresh plantam : ; leaVe|s^ Madam Burleigh re- 
ceived them un wilted. N I had become more 
anxious than ever- to -h^nx the rest of her ad- 
ventures. She' waited put to taste with me the 
milk of a cocoa-nut, placed the flowers I had 
brought on a little table") of her cooi curtained 
boudoir, and thus continued her narrative; 

& When poor Burleigh was laid in the earth, 
my health, for some wedks, continued wretch- 
ed, hut I struggled for ' fortitude and compo- 
sure,, and assistance 'was not long withheld. — 
Lewellyn Lloyd, my uncle, soon heard of my 
bereavement, and sent for me to come to this 
Island. 

* To see another country and climate was 
pleasing to my imagination ; but it grieved me 
to part with little Arvon. .A friend, once de- 
pendent on my husband, remained still attach- 
ed and unchanged. He urged the necessity 
of my absence, and promised to take care of 
my hoy till I could send or come to reclaim 
him. I saw that he loved the child, and trust- 
ed, with tears, my dear little orphan to his as- 
surances. 

c My autumnal voyage to this island was long 
end interrupted by storms. Sick and tossed 
upon the waves I scarcely rose from my pil- 



THE CONFESSIONS, 63 

low, and the whole of three successive weeks' 
was but pain and hurried reflection, cheered at 
intervals with hopes of the future. 

4 The winds became hushed as we approach- 
ed, and beneath the clear waters of the Baha- 
maSj the sea-flowers were seen upon the sands, 
The odour of plants and ripened coffee came 
greeting our senses while still upon the bosom 
of the ocean. To see the distant land was ren- 
ovation, and cold 7 storms, and sickness were 
forgotten. 

c It was noon when we entered the fine har- 
bor: of Havana, and the first day of the week. 
The scene that arose before us, seemed to o 
wildly picturesque for reality, Beings of all 
tints and complexions, between the light Span- 
ish olive, and the jetty black of Africa, seem- 
ed crowded to gaze on our arrival ; arrayed In 
clean white garments, they looked as if pre- 
pared for. a festival.* 

1 The day was warm but not oppressive. The 
castles Moro and Panto, rose gilded with the 
sun, on each side j and about the dark ledges 
of the wave worn cliffs that support them, stood 
groups of men and boys, angling, as if for pas- 
time, in the waters of thehay^oueatli themj 
their /unsoiled. - linen dresses. . were, jelieveiAy 
the color of the rocks;. and the whole seemed 
like a sketch. from the vivid- fancy- of-some -pain- 
ter. 

*S«nday ia Catholic countries, is -always af estfrajj aad 
most on that day wesr clean dresses. 



64? IDOMEN. 

'But why Should I pause, to describe emotions 
known to so many 1 The feelings of those 
who come from a land of snows and leafless 

forests to those beautiful islands of the sun, 
are well known, my 'friend, to you.' '" And 
yet," I returned, " to !}ear the description from 
thy lips, surpasses tofmy heart, the reality as 
it looked to ' my eyes. Now, that I have be- 
come thy father and protector, I hope to see 
all in thy presence. 'The beauties of the coun- 
try are known to me ivell; proceed, then, to 
tell me of thyself. ^Disclose to me every in- 
cident, as it comes, to thine own son! in 
truth. 

" Idomen looked at me and continued : 

£ Unaccustomed to the sight of a relative, my 
uncle Lewellyn Lloyd received me with un- 
hoped for affection. 

6 A few days were passed in Havana. That 
haven of adventurers from many countries has 
seldom been presented to the world, either in 
verse or romantic story ; yet. scenes are daily 
passing in its courts, which outvie the inven- 
tions of fiction. 

' We rode on the beautiful paseo ; listened to 
the music of the opera ; and visited the tomb 
'of Columbus. How rude is his bust of marble ; 
and yet as I stood by it, in the cool cathedral, 
the soul of the hero seemed present. 

^Llewellyn soon became impatient to see me 
at his home in Guamacaro. Two days we 
rode slowly in a volmte, curtained with green 



THE CONFESSIONS. 65 

silk, through the alleys of blooming planta- 
tions. 

■''On the grounds of the " Conde de } Loreto" 
the fruits that were lying in heaps, seemed 
enough to fill a city with luxury. 

'But one night was passed at Matanzas, and 
riding slowly through the sun we reached ere 
the fourth evening of our journey the " Oaf Hal 
San Pablo" the same that you saw at Guama- 
caro. A French mayoral had ornamented the 
place as welias he could for my reception* — 
The hall within looked gloomy, but flowers 
were twined round the simple pillars without, 
edged every walk, and bloomed and breath- 
ed in every alley* The calmness of the scene 
gave me pleasure-. Here I might ride, write 
verses, and look at~the sky and verdure. 

' The twilight was nearly past, when I stood 
with Llewellyn, in the piazza, glancing far 
down #he darkening avenue of palms, or- 
ange, and mango trees. Two hundred expec- 
tant negroes. came soon in a line, two by two, 
conducted by white overseers, to welcome the 
relation of their master \ they all bent the knee 
an instant, and uttered the Spanish commen- 
dation. \ Soon after drawn up in a ring they 
xepeatea an evening prayer 5 then retired to 
the lawn before their cottages, to 'sup- and pass 
the evening at the sport they most delighted 
in. 

1 It soothed me to be welcomed with festiri- 
c6 



t>6 . IDOMEW. 

ty. Would to heaven that fear and pain had 
.never been made necessary to mortals 1 

■ .:.. ^Athalf^a^ 

estate resounded through the fresh, dewy air; 
I retired soontomy |^d-roQm v entered& blood- 
warm- bath,-, and lay me down, protected' from 
-the injects by cleari ^rhite lawn of France. 
... : v *;l^wasJ^n|^ Tke 

.varied ^objects of ther^ay f were.; floating' m sue- 
session |h^ 

sang .without ;my j. baffeer of lawn seemed- dart- 
ing and striving to reach me, while fresh from 
the North and sanguineous. 

'.i.When dreams at last began to mingle with 
reality,- the plea#ant morning. hell soon banish- 
ed thorn.; and a -noise like the waves of the sea 
■seemed rushing towards the -roof where -I slept* 
It was but the numerous do-yes, Who had come 
from their- cote at the wpll known- sound of 
.the bell, and lighted on the - dwelling of their 
.-master, . to wait for a repast of maize, , daily 
-strown for them, thus early, before the steps 
of : the -.piazza. Vultures .may stalk hy these 
rivers, but Cuba is a region for the dove; ( l5 ) 

4 When I rose -all Was verdure and brilliancy. 
'The sun had .-risen in his , beauty, but the dew 
■%vas still heavy upon, the .flowers, Palmettos 5 
papayas,- -trees of -the - -Ota-he ite - -almond,- and 
-dark- plumy . .clusters of . -bamboo, rose high 
against the clear blue firmament. 



THE CORFESSIOWS. 6T 

' g The -large flocks'- of doveslhad dispersed, but 
green chattering parrots were^ tearing- with 
their ivory beaks the rind of the most aeicl 
oranges. Lizards of Various colors — green, 
blue, flame-like vermillion, and velvet black, 
glided ; -'6^k^ } ^^^^^'-^^^^^X4%^ : :' ; k^L 
their soft tiny tongues the large drops hang- 
ing near the branehes.( le ) 

£ To pace the cool piazza, to inhale the res- 
piration of flowers, ^o--lanqiiot^he : eye- with 
soft tints and' shades ; to ^feel ? iipon.1tie : eBeei:s 
and forehead, caresses from the fresh morn- 
ing breezes, for a while was sufficient amuse- 
ment. ' J " y '"" : .: ; "'■■■■•'■-''■■•■ 

6 The limbs of the negroes that passed to and 
fro among the trees were round and glossy 
with health, their labors were light :: and r iheer- 
ful, and their far-native ; land : f6r^0tten. v Sing- 
ing, in low hum, rude songs of their own com- 
posing^ they-' lived : all - day among the" flo#ers 
of an eternal springy plucking the red berries 
of the coffee fields, or trimming broad hedges 
of lime trees, continually in fruit and blossom.. 

*The noonday beam that endangers the brain 
of the white man, to- them was" but pleasure- 
and rejoicing. Their jetty black skins became- 
smoother ( 17 ) and more supple in- its 1 he at, and 
they welcomedrTtsrholfes^^ 
serpent; that glides fromliis retreatliFthe ver-~ 
nal season of the north. Ripe fruits were theif 
nightly repast, their 7 sports musre'aii d'dancin g.. " 
c5 



'0S /IDOMEN-. 

4 The few wants they knew, in a state so near 
to that of nature, were promptly and ■■ easily 
supplied, and they lived careless of to-mor- 
row as the birds that feasted on their orange 
trees. \ . 

i The purple-shelled (J crab, . that leaves his 
traces in the red soil of their gardens, must re- 
member his path to^Jthe sea 5 the ant that de- 
vours their coffee plants, must plan and choose 
a retreat ere he delves his subterranean abode ; 
but the negro leaves all to his master. In the 
power of -men wise and .humane, how happy 
are even ignorance and slavery! 

' For six monthsl !ived in tranquillity. The 
neighboring planters with their families, were 
early and Jxecpient in their visits ; and Llew- 
ellyn, my .uncle, was kind, and satisfied with 
my endeavors to please him ; — but my boy, 
my darling -hoy, was absent and fatherless. 

c At length- that- curiosity felt, ever, at the 
arrival of a stranger, began to be fast subsi- 
ding. My relation and protector' spent much 
of his time at Matanzas. Alone, amid the 
shades of " San Pablo" I had power to choose 
•and arrange my own rural amusements., In 
all my life, before, I never had lived in the 
country ; and no where could nature have ap- 
peared in a softer aspect. 

'In -.the morning I. directed the household, 
■and then read or wrote a few hours. In the 
twilight a .pony was brought to the piazza, 



THE CONFESSIONS. 69 

and I rode through the fields and alleys ac- 
companied by some neighbor or domestic. — • 
This mode of life was new, and inspired a con- 
tentment that I seldom before had tasted. No 
external amusement was sighed for, every hour 
was occupied, and every flower and insect a 
subject for admiration and wonder. 

4 But this calm was of short duration. A 
friendly merchant died, and embarrassments 
were oerceived in the affairs of him who nrn- 
tected me ; while some other secret affliction 
seemed preying on his mind and spirits. My 
sense of contentment fled \ and the future again 
became threatening ; though, so lately, it had 
scarcely claimed a care, save that of .thoughts 
and plans for the welfare of my absent boy. 

4 Two owners of estates in Guamacaro had 
intimated a wish for my hand ;but uncharmed 
with their manners and wholly unacquainted 
with their -sentiments, my soul could not oth- 
erwise than revolt at a contract so immediate. 
It was said to Llewellyn — " your niece, it is 
very true, can depend on herself for amuse- 
ment, and make herself contented as she is^ 
yet still, as she has no fortune to depend on, 
it will be better, both for herself and for you, to 
get her off your hands by a prudent marriage. ,3 
Thus was the offer made, and thus was ii urg- 
ed to me. Loth to sell myself, I knew not 
what to answer ; and said,' only, that having 
been a wife even from childhood to the beg; in- 



7# ■ IDO'BTEN* 

ning ,of. the still present- year., I wished to he 
at liberty, so far as wit^i- gratitude I might, at 
least for a little while linger. My uncle said 
no more, but grewevery ( |day cooler and cooler. 

■ 6 A year was finished at San Pablo t the plan- 
ter who had caused my uneasiness, took little 
pains to win my esteem, yet often 'spoke se- 
cretly to Llewellyn.- ■ Pressed, pained and dis- 
trustful, L knew not how^ to:- proceed, when a 
letter- arrived from Canada:; Pharaniond Lloyde, 
my. cousin, had lost by sudden death, his young* 
and beautiful -wife,, and entreatejjlof me a visit 
of consolation's Llewellyn saw the; letter and 
made no effort to detain me- 

f.With a thousand dark misgivings I pre- 
pared. to leave,-- again, this 1 sweet island of flow- 
ers: and forgetfuTness, 

4 The planter,, who had been to me more 
reasonable and respectful than the rest, eame 
to S&n Pablo on the eve of my departure-, and 
a tear was on his sun-burned cheek. Why 
did he not sooner evince some .real-' affection. 

-Every things was 'ready. • -Iliad prayed ear- 
' nestly to heaven for direction in my resolves, 
and went, half promising to return 5 — yet as I 
stepped into the volante which was to bear me 
tovM&tanzas, ,there c.ametomy heart a sensa- 
tion resembling the touch -of death. 

6 A vessel in which ladies were passengers, 
left, before three days had passed, its mooring- 
in the beautiful bay.. ■ Llewellyn and the friend 



'THE CONFESSIONS. 71 

who had dropped a tear at $073: Pablo r . went 
with me together in -a boat: when the time of 

her 'sailing •approached. It was- the month of 
March, the coffee trees were in full blossom, 

and the sea winds for many miles before Us, 
were rich with the perfumes of the island.— 
The eyes -of both \ my -..conductors were 1 -learn- 
ing with regret and tenderness as we parted* 

Alas ! I . never -saw;; them s ^nore \ , r The: ;; little 
boat that bore them .was soon; out: of :sigfe& ; 
and both, ere another year had passed, were 
embarked on the sea of eternity, 3 

" The scenes and events that follow, were 
passed," continued Dalcour, " in a country far 
distant from me, yet I learned' them from- the 
lips of Idomeri, and have written thenr since, 
in my language. I keep them preserved in my 
cabinet with the verses and designs of her 
whom I cherished but to lose again r go with 
me to : my inner 'apartment, and I will show 
them to you/' [ ■■■<•■■ 

I followed Dalcour across. the hall towards 
a passage that I had not remarked jbut?now 
that he ihad- ceased to speak,! ^perceiv^i^tbat 
he was pale and exhausted, and begged him 
to retire, till the -mornings 

The apartment of Ambrosio was still, as I 
passed by it to my own $ and I threw: myself 
at onca.upoiL- my pillow-and-f bund-the-refresh- 
ment of sleep needful in^every-clime^but-most - 
needful in the tropics. 



:72 • idomen.. 

Like Women at Sam jPwWo, 1 was awakened 
in the morning by the sounding wings of tame 
doves. The sweet torie.s of the bell soon fol- 
lowed. I lay listening to the various noises 
of the plantation tilLMieard the voice of Dal- 
cour, then arose to bear him company among 
the fair scenes of his creation. 

At. nine, . a breakfast was served which might 
tempt the most delicate gastronome. Jellies, 
oysters containing pearls, small birds, a fla- 
vorous paste made with the tender grains . of 
unripe maize, fried slices of ripe, bananas, mel- 
ting avocado pears, and honey of the country, 
carefully taken from the comb, and scented 
with the blossoms of the orange tree ^ these 
viands-were served with light bread, rice and 
wine, and followed by coffee and chocolate. 
While, for palates less easily excited, garlic, 
anchovies and the bright scarlet pimiento^could 
be ;brdught at a moment 5 s warning,' yet would 
ill have accorded, in their odor, with two large 

•vases of flowers which Benito had placed up- 
on the table. 

Ambrosio, as^soonas he arose from the meal, 
gave, pencils and tablets to his negro, and re- 
paired to the. avenue of bamboo, to sketch its 

.green arches in perspective. Before another 
hour had .passed away, the biographer of Wo- 
men sent for me to come to his most secret 
retirement, , 

A narrow passage between partitions of bas- 



THE CONFESSIONS. 73" 

ket wort like thegreaterpartof the dwelling, ■ 
conducted-' to a small apartment, secluded in 
one of the wings ? and lighted by two small 

windows entirely concealed with flowers and 
foliage. Different from all the rest, this one 
little room,' or closet, was neatly finished with 
fine -plaster, and ' hung, wherever there was' 
space enough," with choice paintings or engra- 
vings.- ■ Two cases for hooks were each of 
them surmounted by a Jrast of fine marble, one ; 
a copy of the Beividere Apollo, the other a 
little resembling Camera's Yenus from the 
bath,'- - ' - 

A, lound^'Erench tables in 'the .-■■• centre, ' was 
faced -with marble wrought -in mosaic, and the ■ 
floors that we trod upony was also a pavement 
of 'marble. r In' a niche, or^ndentaiioh-in-rbne 
of the sides of the room, stood a small stove of 
porcelain, -to : ; be -heated during-tMse'few 5 ' mm^- 
ter weeks: when' cold 'reaches' m&k \io::.Gmb& f : - 
and -changes ■ the' colon? \^ ^faeuclm^s'm§M§iB^ 
though it cannot harm the tenderest leaf, -('a)' ■ 

A pretty French cabinet, also of porcelain, • 
and 'delicately, painted; stood -open, and •seem- • 
ed< reserved for;papers^nd choice relics,- which ■• 
elsewhere might -be 'injured by- the: insects.-- (*•?).- 

" This," said---D&lcour, ' " is -my oratory.— . 
Here but - one "'"domestic - ever ^nterSi^Jradjid* '' 
dom any stranger'; here I sometimes -come^m' - 
the- hours 'of midnight and reflection 5' and-'heie 
I pass those -very few days^ wJseaiiheisuiiJs— -- 



74 IDOHfE^* 

farthest .-distant, "and when, though gathering 
flowers all the while, the Creole wraps his 
cloak, closely round him." 

My attention, was immediately arrested by 
an.. oval- painting, apparently of some ancient 
master, on each side of which, on a small pro- 
jection or table of marble, stood two waxen ta- 
pers in candlesticks o( carved alabaster, and 
covered with glasses. The picture presented 
half the Jigure of a woman of light complexion 
and mild expression of countenance, who held 
on a scarf, in her lap, fresh • flowers of a tem- 
perate region, exquisitely tinted and delineated. 
Balcour seemed pleased with my attention, 
and said that he had purchased the picture in 
France,. because of its resemblance to Idomen. 
The English verses of her whose memory 
was. so dear to .him, .were rolled with his own 
MSS. which he seemed to wish me to copy :— 
I ..preferred .to hear the story from his lips, as 
before, and promised .to wait till the moonlight 
might.be shining again in, his.. piazza, i The 
I glowing ,beams of the sun seem never in ac= 
I cordance with those. deep feelings, of the heart 
/ which shrink from. -the common observation, 
;' and' seldom can well be ..expressed even to .the 
• best .earthly friend ; hut the tongue will some- 
; times gain courage when evening conceals the 
} countenance .. 

I: wished to. read and write, at least, so .ma- 
ny.' of the verses as related to the story half 



THE . CONFESSIONS. 75 

told to me; for I was fain to take the whole to 
my country as a fragment of the distant new 
world, 

I saw that a cushion of silk was lying upon 
the too cold marble before the picture of 1 do- 
men ; and conceived of the fond superstition 
which caused a knee sometimes to bend there. 
The light task even that I proposed, seemed, in 
such a retreat, profanation ; and yet, to take to 
any other place, those papers, once warm in the 
hand of the very friend so cherished in mem- 
ory, migut uQ stin more repugnant to one Who 
so worshipped an ideal ] but Dalcour soon re- 
lieved my embarrassment, by requesting me 
to wait where I was, in possession of the pa- 
pers, till he joined me. One small silken otto- 
man supplied the place of other seats, and thz,t 
I was to sit on with my tablets. 

At three I rejoined del Monte. A meal, a 
siesta, and a ride about the grounds, filled well 
the other hours till moonlight. Ambrosio, be- 
fore the time of the passeo, had gone through 
the wood to Matanzas, but promised to return 
the next morning, and finish his sketch of the 
fine arched^ perspective of the avenue of bam- 
boo by which we entered. 

As soon as the twilight had faded, I dressed 
myself afresh in cool' linen, and sat down up- 
on the sofa of bajuca to wait for the coming of 
my sensitive and bland, entertainer. .He. had 
not joined in our afternoon exercise 3 but came 
d2 - 



76 IDOM-EN. 

to me newly- bathed,- and retaining- the odor 
of orange flower water. Refreshed -from- a 
long repose, he felt not the last night's wake- 
fulness | and, handing me- a cluster of flowers, 
proceeded soon. with his story, as it came from 
-the' lips of Idomen^ to be written forever on his 
memory. The tones of Idome-n herself could 
scarcely have been, more plaintive than those 
of the fervent old man, who seemed- to inherit 
the soul of one of the troubadours of his coun- 
try ._ He pau sed awhile,, to recollect her words, 
and then continued- thus her- narration, '-We 
had left the land of sunshine and sweets. The 
month of April, had begun, jet snow storms 
greeted, the return of our vessel to the country 
of my birth place. 

* p d seemed no longer my- home ; yet 

there many duties detained" me. When a few 
months had passed, I took with me my darling 
boy, and went, over mountains and through 
woods, to- Canada,— to the country of -Ethel- 
w^id-^to ■ -a 'land -of '-deeper. snows ■ and ; wilder 
forests than even the. one where my soul had 
first waked -to consciousness. Yet -music, 
beauty, and ; love,- had power to -make even, on 
the ice .of the St. Lawrence, a-paradise un- 
■ known to me before. 

' Little Ar von, then eight -years of age, was 
my only attendant and companion. It was 
: -aMiuMh. ■ The .--wild- scenery of northern A- 
merica was tinted with the most beautiful col- 



THE CONFESSIONS* !fj 

©rs, that autumn ever wears in the world.-— 
The bold barren clifts of the mountains ^— the 
cold mountain streams, strown with fallen 
leaves, — the desolate branches, despoiled of 
their foliage by piercing' winds, or still bearing 
that foliage painted, by early frost, with the 
richest gold and crimson, might be likened to 
the gorgeous vestments of a queen who stands, 
with ail her train, amid the shrinkings and 
suffering of poverty. 

4 How strong was the contrast of those bare 
dark rocks and forests, already, half disman- 
tled, 'to the flowers and everlasting verdure 
that fleeces those shores and tangled deserts, 
and return to the smiles of the sun, every day 
that he rises in Cuba I . 

1 Rude cultivators of the ruder soil, and tra- 
ders who carried their contraband merchan- 
dize to Oanada ? from the flourishing republic, 
were all our travelling society. Both farmer 
and trader- were kind to little Arvon and- to his 
mother. Bearing good ' will to all mankind, 
we were helpless ourselves, because alone. 5, but 
'lie it t to" the 'honor of those region| 3 ,tio*i|tiniial 
good, offices , were, received on our way, and no 
evil, done ; or designed to us. ; :• ,-. . • 

'"We stopped at Montreal for refreshment'; 
and' : a; passage for us was;taken^n^tfi^steam° 
boat, which'- then j^trat 'forage w. y 'eaTsfimdrxbarf 
ed through ~the~wayes "of tke~St Lawrence^— : ; 

1 In all the varied climates and-vast- extent 
d3 



78 IDQMEN. 

of,tlie-ne.W' world, ;■ what stream can compare 
with this'l: .The wild aborigines of .the country, 

first called it the " great river ;" and that name 
in their own soft language, composes the word 
Ladauanna, which sounds like the music of its 
waves'. An aged chief* of. the Hurons, who 
learned to write of white men, traced after- 
wards, that name atLorette, on a. leaf of my 
pocket hook, with a hand that had scalped his 
enemies. 

.' i Beautiful Ladafianna ! how clear and spark- 
ling art thou to the eye-! to the lip how sweet 

<ff* Wi^f -oeit I nfh-rti* fk - rati 4rri'wr% s*4r 4- lr» ** «TA"nrtrt-a /-v4 *I-\/^ 

-ci>iJivti£iaj.u Lai. y . jn., uataiai>i>t mc Wunuci ui , iiip 

world, is formed; by 'the waters, that rush -.to 
the sea through' thy- channel- And, near the 
soft ripple of thy brink, was born the most 
lovely of mortals ! 

c A night and nearly a day had been passed 
upon the waves, which, near .to the shores, 
were beginning to be. 4 - candied with ice." A 
passing storm .had caused our course to be re- 
tarded* ■ < ■ ■ ■ ■ 

**This chief in 1826, (and who for aught I, know, still 
is there,) resided with his' family atLorette, the cath- 
olic' village, 1 about nine miles' from Quebec, where Indi- 
ans live in peace and happiness, in a state of semi-civili- 
zation. ;His name was " Lauanaui.," to which had "been 
prefixed the names " Nicolas Vjncent." Thinking the 
House | of Assembly were : not sufficiently 'mindful of 
His nation, he went 'himself to England, and had several 
personal interviews witL. George IV. He cpoke and 
wrote English.: 



THE CONFESSIONS. 79 

1 It was colder than, usual in "October, but, 
the brilliant tints of the northern New World 
liad not yet faded into russet. The, leaves of 
the walnut were still like burnished gold, and 
those of the maple of a glowing scarlet 5 while 
tall flourishing pines, with their various ever- 
green companions, seemed defying the ap- 
proach of winter. A light fall of snow had 
powdered the foliage, and faintly sparkled in. 
the pale rays of the sun, just escaped from his 
clouds to set clearly 5 like some mortal who 
vanquishes misfortune to die when his path be- 
comes pleasant. 

1 Oh Nature ! in whatever climate thou art 
seen, how many charms adorn thee ! Where 
the' last dwelling of the white man (20) is seen 
towards the northern polar' ' ocean, I have be- 
held thee, crowned with rocks, and admired 
thy rude magnificence. In these regions, of 
burning 'Cancer, thy "temples are' ever 'bound 
with flowers.' ' . 

"After this brief rhapsody was finished, I 
left Idomeu a moment ■; and finding Benito in 
the small, shady court within, I received ;from 
him a ripe giiayatfa, and cut' it' in parts to pre- 
sent it, on a leaf, to her who was speaMng for 
my pleasure. Its pulp of' bright rose coloi^ 
enclosed by a rind of pale gold, could not; tempt 
liei' to soil hei" lips' at that moment ; but I laid 
it on tlie "Table" b^ore^Ber^" to' emit' a irtclrfra-" 
pTahce. as' shs continued % 
d4< 



§0 jnomm^ 

, . £ When the steamboat v was near approach- 
ing .the Canadian town, Trois Rivieres^ I felt 
cold, and retired to the cabin of ladies, , leav- 
ing Aryon in. safety on the deck.. , 

1 A -thousand emotions were crowding to my 
heart, as- 1 sat a' 'moment in. solitude, while all 
was noise and bustle abqve. , "The boat stop- 
ped? opposite to a", place, that awakened .to me. 
no other than* pleasing recollections $ yet my 
heart,.! knew not why, beat violently . _ A hope' 
was obtruding itself, vague and indefinite in 
its nature, but 'strong and exciting in its. ef- 
fects | a'iid I called on my utmost resolution 
to suppress and • subdue it, ■ My sense of the 
past -became dim, and the present was scarce- 
ly! realized, when little 'Aryan dame running 
with. pleasure in -his .eyes, and entreated me to 
go up to the deck .with nim. 

,' £ I followed him to the. door of the cabin .— 
".Mother," said the, expectant boy, "they say 
Mr. Ethelwald is coming ; 'is not that the beau- 
tiful gentleman that held .me on his hand, when 
I. was very littlq, in your . drawing room at 
P- n , v \. d 1" , A" small b,oat Jiajd, advanced t from 
the, shore, with one person besides the.rowers. 
It ,wasin:dee4, • ,$t)iciwald. :; lialf overpowered, 
I, exceeded "myself within the, do or- way , where 
I wa^ standing^"' . . ' ■ ' .-.'-'■.' 

;.*fie did not remember Arvon,- but with eyes 
beaming beneiiceocej and a smile tijiat seemed. 
the 'epitome of every thing delightful either ow 



THE CONFESSIONS. 81. 

earth ; or in heaven, he lifted the-, highly- pleas- 
ed child, extending his arm ; a moment, like the- 
well-known Peruvian chief in a tragedy of, the, 
German Kptzebue. 

£ Every, eye. was immediately arrested -"by, 
this playful exhibition of strength, so pictur- 
esque and so uncommon, 

6 As soon as. I had regained ..self-possession 
enough. to appear, I called Arvon to ; me, and 
bade him ask the stranger to cornea moment,, 
to the door where I stood. 

4 Short as had been our ; stopping before 
Trots Rivieres^ the steamboat was again ready- 
to proceed. , j Ethelwald .came at my summons, 
he tpok my, trembling. hand, discolored: by- the 
frosty, atmosphere,, but jbig. own hand, , beauti-, 
ful-.m its strength, , was white as .the petals , of 
the: magnqlia of Florida, - and warm and ,soft . as. 
down,, beneath ,ttie wing, of ,the ptarmigan^ of 
Canada. 

c The beams, of the coldly setting sun seem- 
ed clinging.; to . his fair curly hair, j.biis cheeks 
were glowing with exercise ^jbut his s beautiful 
nostrils were.-white and .'symmetric as if 'sculp- 
tured , by,tlie : ,hand.of a- Phy^ias.. . 

c He looked,. I cannot describe hisf Ipoks !— . 
A seraph, descending on. Mounts Harmon, i; or a 
gqji. repealing himjse]f. in; the-msn^pf^p^^r, 
ed by Homer, seemed realized i n this jnprtal 
of the northern .New World ,~- whose-. birtj^ #Iace 
was still .within the.gkiiee of- jthe. tawny savage, 
of the forests 



8»2 : IDOMENY 

- c My' ; tohgue,-at last, served me to' say:—-' 
a Has the change of five years been complete 1 
oilcan you still perceive "in me a friend T J — 
"lean, I can I " lie exclaimed $ but ere lie 
could add another syllable, his : Canadian row- 
er came running, to hasten his departure.-— 
The bell of the boat rang violently, for night 
was ' ; fast 'descending ••■ on ; the- river. "Let me 
hope that we shall "meet again," were his 
word's 5 he- pressed, and shook gently my hand, 
and in one moment more '"had- sprung into his 
boat and was gliding away through the duski- 
ness;- 

■ 'Itwas^dark/but'I saw him gain -the shore . 
I held little 1 Arvon by the.haitd and drew'-him 
gently from- the deck, but the 1 boy was not in- 
elined for sleep.' -The- scene just; passed, -had 
struck -forcibly- on his : memory, and he seemed 
td ; take pleasure 'in -Tecallmg-the ■ everitW of his 
infantine life. 5 

" "Here-'-'Idbmen' looked at me ;and ; •! said, 1 
alsq ; a# P- — ; -^d' i have'-helci' on 'my kride in 
friendship,' your little -flaxen haired 'Anton." 
• c That 7 orphan- boy, is now, she replied, wiili 
strangers; will* you help me to- 'protect him, 
if "1. senrd 1 - for him'to* this l ; lahd of flowers V— 
"€anf ouMll askV : I returned!' '" -To whom'but 
to r hi«i ? -and ! 'to-yo'uHs' the Test ''"of mydife'to'be 
devoted? 

^*'How : strong- were-* the 'feelings- of' matethi- 

ijmUi&k. eatts&l; her ; to -revert to '-her child, co 



THE CONFESSIONS. 83 

soon after thinking of one who .was likened, in 
her mind, to a seraph. 

" To prevent all expressions of gratitude,, I 
said: 

" But, Idomen, of what did you dream on 
the night following this interview with the 
handsome Ethel wald V' J c Call him not hand- 
some !' said she, suddenly-; ,{ from a term so 
common as that, his looks can never he con- 
ceived,— you ask me, my friend, of what I 
dreamed, hot that night I closed. not my eyes. 
The dull, trembling noise of -the machine, that 
was forcing our prow through the river, hith- 
erto had but caused me to sleep. When I 
thought of my expected arrival and meeting 
withPharamond, my anticipation had, 1 scarce- 
ly knew why, been gloomy 

s But now, the scene lately passed had fol- 
lowed me to my pillow, and my narrow but 
comfortable bed was pressed, not in sleep, but 
in reverie* Fear vaguely whispered of some- 
thing to be suffered, but pleasure was predomr 
inant in my soul. Alas ! who could, ever bear 
misfortune, were, it not for the aid of ■> some 
sweet vision or some passing incident 1 

* Early the next morning, we stopped at 
Quebec. The powerful vapor that had im- 
pelled us was escaping with its loud roaring 
ii£ise r and - all was - -bustle ---and~tumulfe-©n-the 
deck above. But few greetings ^of -frieit^bHbad 
taken place,, ere I heard the voice .of- Phara- 



m ■ tidbia&x. 

taond, 1 who : had" come to look for us. A sense 
of all that had" befallen me"struck suddenly to 
my' heartland I could' not forbear trembling as 
I presented to him my Arvon, now an orphan, 
"' It' was soon after my early 'marriage that, 
•For the'-fer^i'time'in my life, P saw 1 my ebiisln 
Pharkniondi ' H&tlien im'Me'jqdmejB to visit 
me, : and 'was never 'weary 'of expressing to me 
Ms" 'affection; 'No w : ' he' remarked my ' iinu sual 
palenessf and 1 ' Pthooght'' his 5 '" kiss of" welcome 
was } thd ; coldest i ' ever ' hfetd received from Him. 
'The "streets were still nearly bare of'srioV, 
arid' BL'edieche took' iis'to his dwelling. Few 
cities in the' world are more varied and pictur- 
esque? than -'the -gray fortress-bf Quebec. I had 
seeriit ©nee before, 'on 1 a summer excursion* 1 
had stood: upon the green sods around its hang^ 
irig "-citadel, -and overlooked the f 'broad ba~ 
son of the " Ladafiaiiiia.'" The mouth of the 
'st^eamMohtmorericyj-'couldlje seen' from the 
'Mrb6r"wiiere'we -lay, 'arid the ' ifturmiir of its 
^distant f cataract,- narrow, -but higher 'than N£- 
agara, 1 Kad-been sweet to niy, -ears even in this 
fliill •' morning. ? B'iit- tft e "- day Was cloudy , 4 and 
though 1 Phtemond 1 tried' 't|o c be ! cheerful as' we 
; pasii§d r 'i'hr'oUgh ttte"6'6Id f narrow streets, a' cbn- 
''straftit- r appeared L in''hrs manners, %hiek I nev- 
er '-Ml observed f Before, i Of this 'he himself 
TOs^ensiMejand'^eMred-meto attribute 'it to 
tie -loss/Of a-well-"b6ldved%ife. 
' s The^hoilse we entered was Mgli abovv, i^ 



THE -CONFESSIONS. 85 

■river, in a street 'leading to that} gate of -the 
fortress called H— -. Every room was fitted 
up with a comfort that was perfectly English, 
Nothing seemed intended -for display. A low 
dining -roomy warmed hy a stove qf -molt en iron 
covered 1 with devices, was 'the foist apartment 
we entered f and the three -'servants -of the es» 
iablishment -were all -which, at-' the " monient ? 
-greeted' our arrival. '" Mother,' 3 said little Ar- 
von, as soon' as we were left alone, "doyois 
think you shall love to' live here 1" 

c I thought of 'the sofas and carpets of my 
own -pleasant -"drawing rooms, where the boy 
tad first sported in his 'infancy; — where- you, 
my friend-, so kindly sent,- by heaven, - to me 
now, -hatt^first played" with his curls,- "while' you 
praised my music arid poetry I thought nest 
of the 'flowery- walks and fields of this island, 
I ■ thought- of many other things'; hot when -I 
thought, -also, of ■ the : late- meeting with Ethel- 
wa-ld,- 1 felt that I could endure the -'gloom of 
the. approaching winter: - 

; c It pained me more than >any /-thing: el$e,' to 
see little -Arvon look- sad'| hut- while 'Iga&gBed 
and strove to amuse him,' "PharanioWd return- 
ed wit-h/a- young * relation ahd : took' : 'himto'Wa!k 
on the ramparts, "and to see the 'If oops b£ Hie 
.garrison- at their accustomed daily pAwtfde-.-— 
^English soldiers -in '-their --neat . showy Presses, 
and 7 Scots in their highland attite* canno: where 
present -a -'finer' spectacle than 7 among 5 the Toefcs 



86 



IDOMEN 



^fiQtaebec;.; ; ^ejSG^rie,of,the death of Wolf ,. pf 
a ^picture .by r ^West,:and the strong hold of 
Britisji\America. 
/- *- While/ alone and dress ing for dinner, then 
came- to, my , mind- a reason for that shade of 
coldness, which appeared in the manners of my 
.cousin. Llewellyn, Llbydje, our uncle, was re- 
puted as a man of ' wjealth ; Pharamond had 
thought me his favorite j aind when he reques- 
ted my visits thought it probable that a rich 
planter, his relation, wo iild. leave his sunny 
fields to attend me during the summer. 
; * On jthe, contrary,! had come, alone with. 
my -orphan. boy ■ and ,with looks expressive of 
sadness, rather than the joy he expected. 

*v At dinner I .endeavored to speak on p sub- 
jects, -that I knew had onbe been charming to 
my cousin, and I isawjhim beguiled at intervals, 
into something like his former cheerfulness. 
. * Bay passed after day* and the scenery a- 
round was .renovating to my health and , spir- 
its. After breakfast in the morning, I walked 
on the, ramparts. with 'little Arvon ; stood with 
tirn ,n$ar the hanging citadel, and sat with him 
sometimes pn the cannon that frown upon the 
brink of the (precipice, that overlooks the ba- 
■spnpf -the river. -The plains of, Abraham skir- 
ted with trees, the distant hills, taking from 
the northern, atmqsphere a thousand beautiful 
■|iats l ^t ( he','^r^.y . wafis^and towers of the fortress, 
: a|l :; .appeared tq .me as seen through a mist pf 



THE CONFESSIONS. 87"' 

enchantment. Even the -cold of the clim'ate 
was almost forgotten, I felt. 'an- enthusiasm,' 
deeper than I had ever knownbeforej even, my 
friend, amid -the 'eternal verdure of these scenes • 
of forgetfulness. 

& Two weeks -passed away -in this 'manner, 

and- : "I "entertained- the friends of my cousin, - 
who -passed -at- 'home- 1 those- hours not -devoted 
toihis affairs,,-' ■ ■ ■ 

'* Constantly, hut not impatiently,- 1 expect- 
ed intelligence -from 'Ethelwald-; when one day 
a .-letter 1 -arrived, bearing- the arms'- of 'an 'an- 
cient family'-; it was -conceived in terms of 
friendship, - heightened even to tenderness •; 
and - signed by' the* jiames ■ > in fully '"Walter '/"Bo- : 
dolph Artio Ethelwald, Regret was-expressed 
that- a letter- only was- obliged -to' supply ; the ■ 
place of -an immediate^ visiti 5 ^ : ;; ; - :r 

s How inspiring 1 - is-'such ' an incident ! 'keep- 
the heart filled ; with a pleasing ; sentiment-^ and 
all ■ worldly '-misfortunes-' are; easy -to hear, f 

i: - A -vague- -apprehension- -of some impending" 
danger' and misfortune- sf ill intruded titselfVon 
my- -mind-, biitl ; had-, now^manymoments^bf a 
hope, that in itself was almost happiness.-' ■ 

6 ■' Yet^nother-; change-Was -so oiit o f take' pk e : e* 
Letters- -'-on--' urgent '-and- unexpected hasirje-'ss* 
summoned -my .cousin immediately'to' ^England*" 
Wo time could-fte-ldst,- for the -river would te» : 
ry sqpn be frozen. . His home musl_saaiiiibe> 
abandoned. I saw that -he !> was-* --pained ana 



embarrassed on niy account,* but I soon though! » 
how, to relieve '.him* , A young relation was* 

going: . to. i his seminary'- '.at. N -% "there <i 

couhi -place- little-. Ararat and -remain -near -my 
boy during the absence of Pharamondo 

■' [Tlxe.(pla!i; wasfcapprpved:-- ancii executed.— 
J3iajamon4i resolved 4;o'.embarJc from 'a -port in- 
th§;pnited ; States,, and- accompanied -me -himV 
self, to the seminary, but eleven, -mite from, 
Trois Rivieres^ 

4 Ethelwald came,-,ivlMle:'wefstopped:'in;pre^ : 
paring; to be rrowed; across-- the. -ri ver^ ■ : already 
very? cold and crusted;withice near it& borders.'. 
His loofes ,-wer e>warmth and summer. He gave 
many- charges;. to the : -boat-men.- of- his-, native 
stfeaini f . . They .rowed with ©are and .swiftne-ss, 
and; sang- all the way to -.their oars, which seem* : 
eel, in their accustomed hands, ,-as-if only, us^dr- 
to.^beat;the time of- their melodies^ : 

5 Pharamond .placed, my boy- ,-in -the •fiem-ina* 
r y, and ha$ found for.me, the-'best accommoda*- 
tioiis, iin.:the little village.-,, near , : him, » . . The* af- 
fairsioLmy. cousin were ..pressing $ he-, waited 
bat Ttp.rsee, : ,usr ; . established-,- and-; bade: an >affe<&--- 
tionate ( ,adie^i-.!i. 

.. ' The-ipriiicipal -fathers of .the, seminary were 
e^jBjS§sive in ^their^ kindness to Arvon,- and- paid. 
tp;,me early -visits.; j; speaking' ia. general term-Dj. 
a^4 ^ying ■nothing; on; the- difference of reii- 
glen,-,.-,. 
' c -The, chapeliaudr other ^buildings where they- 



THE CONFESSIONS* 89 

taught, were of' gray -stone, and stood upon 
the. high banks of the river Nicolet, .Gardens 
were seen where a hill declined on one .side, 
"but on the other side, which was its summit, 
arose a thick grove of tall - pines, where the 
students were permitted to take exercise.- — 
the roofs and spires of the whole were cover- 
ed with plates of tin, and such was the. purity 
of the climate that these plates retained always 
their brightness. They looked in the distance 
like polished silver, glittering in the sun, and 
relieved by the- dark green of the pine trees. 

1 Every thing was novel and picturesque.-— 
The inhabitants of the village were simple in 
their manners:]: gay, kind and hospitable. I 
soon found myself, alone, in a family descend- 
ed from one of the old nobles of France, but 
living, now, in the usual manner of the conn- 

4 Ethelwald had promised to visit me, on the 
third day after my arrival 3 and I busied myself 
as soon as i could^ in arranging the little par- 
lor assigned to my use, by the family. 

4 Never till now, had I been so fully sensible 
of a great change in my condition. . I had no 
piano forte | the room was warmed by a dim 
stove, and the -furniture rude and. inelegant ; 
yet still a sofa .and carpet, although of 'uncost- 
ly -texture, threw, over it anxurofluxTtty^when 
compared, with most of the dwellings pf_ tfiis 
little home in- the- forest,. 
d6 



90 IDOMEN. 

* At the neighboring -seminary Ethalwald 
had been placed in his childhood 5 the scene 5 
therefore, would not be strange to him ; he was 
familiar alike with the opulent nobles of Eu- 
rope, and the savage sons of the desert who 
still hunt the beaver in those wild but fertile 
recesses. 

' The house where I lived was warm ; and on 
the morning of the expected visit I dressed my- 
v self in white, and placed a carnation, which 
bloomed all the winter, on a small table near 
the window, where I had spread books and mu- 
sic. . . 

£ This window looked towards the seminary; 
the clock of the chapel' had just sounded elev- 
en 1 and I perceived a large fine figure aproach- 
ing'the declivity that led to my dwelling. A 
knock was soon heard \ my heart beat quick- 
ly as I ran to receive the expected 5 and a greet- 
ing ensued, like those between friends of 
- many y ear s* 

4 The organ of my greatest pleasure, has 
been to. me, from childhood, the eye. Not a 
gleam of beauty was" ever ■ lost on Idomen 3 
though born amid puritans, in a retired vil- 
lage of the new world. 

■.'.'The charms, of every thing 1 had seen 5 
seemed concentrated and enhanced in him 
who then stood before me . Even you, my 
friend, educated, as you have been, amid the 
paintings and statues of Europe, yon who 



THE CONFESSIONS. 91 

have -wandered ^through : the Ikravre-and Vati- 
can, and seen the chefs tfceuvre of Florence, — 
even you, my friend, expressed wonder, when 
yon looked upon him first at P d. 

* Five years had passed away since that in- 
terview ; the figure of Ethelwald had gained 
in fulness, but colour and proportion were 
still unencroached upon. He wore a military 
undress of blue, lighter than usual, and the 
linen disclosed at his neck, hands, and bosom 3 
was white as the snows of his birth place. 

* We stood near the window whence I had 
watched his approach \ and my soul, as he 
spoke, drank a nectar of music and of beauty, 
too ■^%&A^^f0^^6^^S^i: r ' x ■ 

1 His hair, though a shade darker than when 
I first beheld him, still clustered in golden 
ringlets $ his' teeth had lost none of their stain- 
less and pearly perfection 5 his hand, though 
nerved with the strength of a Theseus or of a 
Hercules, was white as the fairest infant prin- 
cess ever bleached by the moist air of Britain. 

15 His age was now within two years of thir- 
ty ; but the fabled Yen us, as she stepped from 
her shell, could not have been imagined more 
exempt from blemish or discolor. 

"He had lived much' in the freezing air of 
Ms native' woods and rivers | lie had buffered 
the' s¥me~wmdithaMin^ 
the wrinkled : cheek of -t¥e"CanactiaB- -peasant," 
&s he- sings and- smiles ni his toil "5 -but it "seem- 



ed -as if' sua ^and elements -had admired and 
passed by Mm untouched. 

6 Ethelwald, for a -moment, observed my at- 
tention. "When yon saw me,, he said, at 

p. — d, you likened me to Apollo ■; hut now 

foil seemea mortal — almost aii' old man. 55 -— 
Mf '-quick answer was, what then am 1 1— 
"''When your rhair is gray, 55 he returned, "mine 
will He white ; | and in. that thought there is 
eom-fort. 5 ' Such' a speech from- such a crea- 
ture !— -how ; gouM . I do otherwise than feel it 
even as I did I 

. * Three : .hours, which seemed hut as a -mo-> 
ment, he remained, with me, in -conversa- 
tion, and then departed -to -meet an engage- 
ment. The lands appertaining to Nicolet had 
been .purchased by a British officer from-a for- 
mer French Seigneur, and their proprietor now 
lived with his family at a commodious cottage 
called " the manor house. 55 Thither EthelwaM 
repaired "to dress -and dine, but -returned to me 
early in the evening. - - 

Mile) had brought with him from Trots Riv- 
ieres the miniature picture of -a brother, who 
died in the British army in India. ' A little his- 
tory of their, family -ensued after looking at 
this. Of "a beauteous band of brethren," 
"Walter Rodolph Arno was the last. All but 
Min, had been saatched in early youth from a 
worid they were formed to adorn .;— from a 
wotM whose other inliaBitants their persons 



THE CONFESSIONS. 9$ 

entirely surpassed. The Canadian . families 
around, remembered them with regret and en- 
thusiasm ; and looked upon the . last who ' re- 
mained, as something too fair to stay long. 

4 The picture lay before us on the table, and 
during the intervals of conversation, Ethel waM 
read from a little book he had brought with itj 
many extracts and specimens of verses one-e 
breathed by voices he could hear no more, ancl 
copied; by viands of Ais^kin&ed^^wiiiose : ;heauti~ 
fill whiteness had become but the gray dust of 
the earth. - 

c -Softened -by such reflections^ the charm of 
his presence was -.enhanced. The flight of 
hours was unheeded, the interview was unin- 
terrupted ; except .that from time to time some 
one of the family walked in through a half opea 
door, that led to their own apartment, spoke a 
few words in French, and retired 'again. 

i The clock of the seminary, to our utte? 
surprise, struck eleven ; the hours of our, host 
were early, and Etheiwald arose to return -to 
the u manor house." ; As he threw on .his- 
warm, furry cloak, my eyes glanced *an in- 
stant round the little .apartment, the humble, 
scene of a visit so delightful j and was sudden- 
ly and forcibly- struck, with the contrast be- 
tween that scene and the brilliant figure be- 
fore me. Here then, I .said to myself* has Tin* 
gered. so' many hours, one to whomrCaihaf infe 
of Russia, would have opened with, .her- ©wii 



§4 IDOMEtf* 

hand, the richest 'chamber of her palaces. 1 *-** 
Have you not, I said, passed a dull evening 1 — - 

..^iW^l^tekeHs^ftr'- he returned, "that my 
"Evening's might all be like this I " 

c I said no more, for his answer had deprived 
me of utterance. Ethelwald bade good night 
in the English manner, pressing my hand that 
trembled with a pleasure so extreme, that I 
felt not the parting till he was gone* 
.- £ I retired, immediately ' to my room, washed 
in the- sweet water of the neighboring river, 
and threw myself quickly into bed. Sleep I 
could not. Even coherent thought was im- 
possible. I-cOiinteditill waiter four, the striking 
of the seminary clock \ and at- seven I counted 
it ■■■ again, : ; with ; l the" impression of vague but 
sweet' dreams. '. 

• 1 1 thought that Ethelwald would cross the 
fiver early ; for- l -his^ioffle : at Trois Rivieres § 
buijat ten he came-^gain, t© pass another half- 
hour.'' ' 

*# l ;Mi seemed ! still ; a : dream as 1 followed to the 
door this being so unlike the rest of mortals. 
" Stand not here," he 'said, "you may take cold 
and die too, — and then— all will be past" A 
thought of -the early- death' of his six brothers 
and sisters, was, it , seemed, passing through 
his mind.- ■ 4 •• • 

* • : ' I returned r to my little drawing room, stood 
till I could see |him • no more at my. window 
that- looked ■• towards' the ' seminary, and then 



THE CONFESSIONS. 95 

sat myself down in the chair he had lately ris- 
en from. The smiling picture of his brother 
was suspended to the chain about my neck. I 
placed it before my eyes, sat leaning upon the 
table, and for an hour moved riot my position. 
Iknow not what I thought, but during that 
hour, I had no wishes. I sat in a stupor of 
delight ; and to move again, I felt neither 
strength nor inclination 1 . Could mortals long 
endure a state of happiness % 

'■A sentiment of pain recalled me to myself. 
Little Aryon ran into the room. He had felt 
himself ill, and his benevolent instructors had 
yielded to his wishes, and let him come sud- 
denly to visit me. 

£ It was but a sense of confinement that af- 
fected him £butthe slightest uneasiness of this 
sensitive orphan boy, went always through my 
heart, like an arrow tipped with poison. 

£ The worthy family around me gave him 
jelly of currants and raspberries, that grow m 
abundance where the forests have been newly 
cut down. I soon consoled him and went out 
with him to walk on the banks of the s%ill un- 
frozen river, that hastened with its tributary 
waves to the beautiful Ladatianna. ! 

' The day was warmer than usual,: and tracks 
of the hare and ptarmigan were seen in the 
sparkling snow. A party of Indians had 
come to the village to sell, for. the approaching 
winter, moccasins wrought with 'the quills" of 



■96 1D0MEN:* 

•the porculiinje, stained with the, most brit 
Jiant colors ; and snow shoes curiously woven 
of the soft, pliant skin of the t deer. We saw 
them in a group at a distance, as we- followed" 
the bending of the stream. 

*-The-s.quirrel glided lightly through the sun ? 
gtill apparently employed in collecting his last 
winter stores from- the scattered walnut and 
oeech treesr The river was crusted with ice 
at its borders, but; took, at its,, still flowing 
channel, the bright blue of the sky, against 
which, .the. spire of the chapel of 'the seminary 
was glittering like polished silver. ( 21 ) 

* My boy was happy in these scenes. The 
excitement of travelling and the liberty he had 
lately enjoyed? made confinement of any kind, 
irksome, but the priesfs were kind and gentle § 
they thought of. his state as an orphan and a 
strangles that knew not- their language. They 
allowed,him;i,tOfvisit' me daily, and promised 
tp< vary his aliments in any way his health might 
require. . 

4 My solicitude for' this child was extreme. 
I thought of , his friendless, state, and felt that 
my own happiness must be secondary to the 
duty I owed him. He passed: with, me- the day, 
and, at night .retained to the seminary. 

* The -nesjtday brought- me letters and pa= 
pers from Ethelwald, and my table seemed 
covered with his name. 

: * It was. said, in. Europe, at this periocl, that 



THE CONFESSIONS. 91 

a the world vjas at peace " and many regiments 
were disbanded. Ethelwald was now an offi- 
cer on v half-pay, but holding* a civil employ- 
ment which occupied his time and attention. 
Fot three days he came not, but every morn- 
ing brought a note; and a pleasing perturba- 
tion that 1 had not power to overcome, took 
entire possession of my faculties. 

c A small protestant or English chapel had 
been built near the " manor house j" there I 
was invited to dine at the conclusion of. the 
evening service. Ethelwald, who crossed the 
St. Lawrence late on Saturday evening, came 
at the proper hour, to attend me. 

* The chapel, surrounded by trees of the for- 
est, was new, simple, and unadorned. There 
was no music save the voices of those who at- 
tended. Ladies were near me, but my most 
admired sat opposite 5 and when he sang — his 
expression, or what I felt, would be lost in a 
faint description. To look at beauty, and lis- 
ten to its music, are given to our conceptions 
as types or specimens of the ecstacies of .hea- 
ven. 

f c Has any one lived a life without tasting a 
single day of happiness 1 — happiness in ac- 
cordance with the pantings of the heart which 
feels it ? — happiness, for.the time, so large as 
to leave no room for wishes ? 

1 One day, at least, of such happiness, has 
been mine. One day ! A single point between 

E 



98 IDOMEN. 

two massed ' of duiness and solicitude made 
sufferable by a few pleasures, — often uncheer° 

ed with hope, and sometimes blackened by 
despair* - • . 

4 On the scenes of that day, let me dwell, 
oh, my -friend, a moment longer ! The voice 
of Ethelwald gave the -tone in;- which I sang to 
the Most High. His arm supported me as I 
descended the steps of the- - sanctuary ; and I 
thought, as I felt its warm gentle pressure, — 
Heaven has materialized a being of my fancy 
and exceeded her wildest idea, 

4 The English of Canada are very exact in 
their etiquette* We all had walked to church, 
and on reaching the hall of the 4 manor house,' 
every one immediately retired to be rid of furs 
and moccasins, and to dress, for the approach- 
ing meal, in an evening garb, however plain. 

'-'At table Ethelwald was beside me. The 
first wine of .the repast, was poured by his 
hand, raised to my lips at his request, and tas- 
ted' at the same time with his. He saw my 
•light soup almost undiminished, and helped 
me himself, from .a choice partridge or Cana- 
dian pheasant, snared in the neighboring woods 
•by some semi-civilized Indian, but pleasure 
had risen too high, even for the refreshment 
of food, and the little I could swallow, seem- 
ed, 'at that moment, a difficult interruption. 

4 From time to time, I caught a glance, as 
Ms white ' hand raised to his lips, the. white 



THE CONFESSIONS, $$■ 

morsel of bird on the fork of silver. His hair 
shone in the light of the tapers 5 the warmth 
of the well furnished room had brought to the 
transparent skin of his forehead, such lucid 
particles of dew as you, my friend, once be- 
held, with me, at P— — d, I looked at him 

again, and thought, does he, indeed,, nourish 
himself with food, and has he blood like mor° 
falsi 

4 Pardon, oh, my excellent friend, the un- 
reasonable emotions I describe! -Some fiend, 
perhaps, tempted to destroy, .but he whom I 
loved, at least, was not unworthy. 

l . The clergyman, to whom we had lately 
listened, our polite host and hostess, and a 
young girl, the daughter of their friend, with 
a lover to whom she was betrothed, formed 3 
with two other guests, the evening party. 

6 No amusement was introduced, because it 
was the first day of the week, and the family 
were of the church of England. We merely 
conversed or sang a little to the piano. Ethel- 
wald lost no opportunity of placing himself at 
my side j and whenever sitting at a distance^ 
Ms eye never failed to meet mine, with an ex- 
pression that comforted my soul. 

* The hour for retirement too soon arrived 5 
the use of a carioh-1ia.d been declined*' - 1 was 
guarded from the cold by thick garments of 
the north ? and Ethelwald led me to my dwell- 
ing*. ■ 

e2 



100 IDOMEN. 

'The first moon of winter was shining, and 
cast, as we walked, our united shadows on the 
sparkling white path that slightly crisped be- 
neath our footsteps. Alas I if my loye was but 
a shadow, it was not delineated on snow ! . . 
The tablets on which it was engraved will "be 
carried with me to eternity, 

c I fain would have spoken* but words were 
denied me ; neither did Ethelwald speak much ; 
of much there was np need, the tone of his 
voice was enough to tell all that my heart de- 
manded., From time to time he drew my arm 
closer beneath his, or lifted me from the earth 
wherever the frozen path had been roughened. 

''The house where I lived had a little hall in 
front* The door was partly of glass, and a 
light shone through it from within 5 my beau- 
tiful friend, before it opened, would fain hare 
pressed his lips to mine, but withdrew them 
at my faint repulse, — asked pardon, — lifted me 
over, the .threshold^ it was too late at night for 
him to cross, and withdrew with a pressure of 
the hand. v 

6 The Canadiah servant slept, but my bed- 
room was always kept warm ; I ran to it ■ in 
haste, and as I thr^WoiT my outer garments, 
and remembered who had helped to wrap them 
around -me, I felt astonished at having twice 
denied Mm what J gave every day to -my son. J 

tu Manis not made for rapture;" couldldo- 
men — a woman, therefore in the second grade 



THE CONFESSIONS. 101 

of- mankind, -and weaker perhaps, than even 
that second grade should be — could Idomen 
long have endured a happiness like that of the 
day which had just passed away forever 1 

' Sleep, that loves to hover over grief, keeps 
kindly at a distance from pleasure. On that 
night, sleep was long in banishment from mj 
pillow. 

I When I closed my eyes, a moment, I 
dreamed of being clasped in the arms of my 
friend, and awoke with the vivid imagination, 
alarmed, and reflecting on my state — some- 
thing whispered that my thoughts were dan- 
gerous — rbut no S — there was no guilt in him 
who caused them. 

I I was wakeful, and the night was still. I 
could not hear a sound save the breathing of 
some of the family, through the thin walls of 
my chamber. Fearful, and reflecting on my 
dreams, other scenes began to rush upon my 
mind. I thought upon my darkest years $ and 
then the last day I had passed would come to 
me, entire and like a smiling picture. Vfhat 
a contrast of pleasure and of pain ]—^ Which 
was my future to resemble 1 The doubts that 
ensued were almost insufferable ; and I strove, 
as I had often done before, to beguile my per- 
turbed feelings by endeavoring to condense 
them into verses. ? 

" Here idomen rose a moment, and gave me 
from her port folio, a few' leaves of paper num- 
e3 



102 1DOMEW* , 

bered as if in succession, and fragrant with 
braided knots of |jiat odorous grass, found by 
Indians, in the woods of Canada j these dry rel- 
ics 'of a distant country were sweet, even near 

the flowers that surrounded* us. 

* # ■■ * * # # * 

*' Having rested till I read the verses, Ido- 
men again, thus continued : ; £ In the morn- 
ing I arose weak and languid but happy, — ■ 
though doubts would intrude, themselves. A 

day had passed almost without nourishment, 
and a night almost without sleep* My soul 
had been full and satisfied, but my countenance 
shewed traces even of this slight irregularity. 
The eye and the blood are made of earth ; ce- 
lestial food makes them brighter for a while, 
but that which comes from the ground can 
alone preserve them from perishing. 

C I washed me for renovation, in the soft 
sweet water of the neighboring tributary 
stream, braided, my hair as well as I could, and 
swallowed an egg like, drink from its shell, as 
I haci been taught at sea, to supply the defi- 
ciency of appetite. # 

6 Ethelwald could not stay long, but came 
before, he went to cross the river ; he seemed 
anxious -for my health, and gave me many cau- 
tions. As we stood near the window whence 

m This manner of taking sustenance while exhausted 
with any powerful emotion, Is noted here for its excellent 

effect* 



THE CONFESSIONS, 108 

1 watched his coming and departure, he took 
my weak hand that trembled.in his, and press- 
ed me a moment to his heart. ■ Even then I 
had power to draw back— resistance to the 
highest delight, had become to me involunta- 
ry as breath. Yet why and what did I resist 1 
No ill was intended — no dishonor could pos- 
sibly have been perpetrated. Was it . some 
spirit who abridged me of a pleasure like its 
own in heaven X — where souls meet the souls 
that were made for them, and love is pure 
though ineffable. 

.. * Ethelwald again asked pardon ; renewed 
his cautions, and parted with a promise of re- 
turn, I watched his fine figure till it disap- 
peared by the dark pines of the seminary. It 
was the hour for a visit from little Arvon, and 
1 stirred not tijl I saw him approach. 

4 The next morning brought me no letter; 
but the day following, a packet arrived. He 
must think of me, I said, while absent, or he 
would not take pains to write so much,, 

£ The letters of this friend, born in a snowy 
region, still half a desert, and serving^as hunt° 
ing grounds to the red sons of the forest — 
those letters, which I still retain, were deli- 
cate, easy, flowing — perhaps models in their 
kind. With the education of him who wrote 
them, no particular pains had been taken,, but 
an exquisite natural taste for all that is beau- 
tiful, had given to him what never can be 



104 ■IDOMEN. 

taught. T dare not read them, now; biiWf 
sewed them in satin of rose color, and keep) 
them ever near me. 

' On that day, when the dearest of them 
came, of many delightful pages, this passage 
enchained my attention : u I fear you were al- 
most angry with me when last I stood at your win- 
dow ; but oh ! with how little reason 1- I feel' for 
you the warmest regard, may I not also say affec- 
tion." 

' These words I read oyer man - * 7- times an^ 
thought till'I had scarcely power to move.-— 
When I walked they sounded in my ears, but 
doubt and presentiment came over my heart 
like a damp. I feared to believe myself' hap- 
py, but now, I dared not think of the alterna- 
tive. 

'The next day all thought was impossible, 
for Ethelwald, ere noon, was -in my drawing- 
room. The weather had become very cold ; he 
brought me warm-gloves, andbooks ? and moc- 
casin^ of the country, for Arvon. 

4 No allusion .was made, by my friend, to 
that passage of his letter, which had sunk so 
deeply in my heart ; but my looks must have 
well convinced him, that he felt no affection 
unreturned. " My fortune," said he who en- 
chanted me, "is small. If I go to. India pro- 
motion will follow." I would have gone with 
him to the ends of the earth ! ' -This I felt but 
told him not j some adverse power restrained 



THE CONFESSIONS. 105 

my tongue. J looked at the being before me, 
thought of little Arvon, and uttered Dot a de- 
finite word. The picture of Ethelwald' s bro- 
ther was fastened to a chain about my neck $ 
he saw it and said, " I cannot give you that y 
but I will give you mine" His picture ! be- 
sides the inimitable original, no gift could 
have been so delightful. Have you got it 1 — 
I asked with emotion ; but something invisi- 
ble restrained me, and I claimed not his pro- 
mise in words. Was not this the crisis q[ my 
destiny 1 . . and did not my evil fate pre- 
vail] 

i It was no longer a time to say more ;' two 
Canadian visitors entered, and claimed the 
civility of us both. One arm of Ethelwald 
was mine, the young visitors by turns, shared 
the other. We walked by the pine grove of 
the seminary, and along the path leading to 
the " manor house." The banks of the river 
N ..... t were coveted with snow ; and 
snow clouds were gathering in the heavens. — 
We returned to an early repast, but the sun 
was near setting ere it ended. . Ethelwald lin- 
gered till twilight. The winter day was too 
short ; the cold was fast increasing j the broad 
Ladaiianna would soon close ; and: while clos- 
ing-might be impassable for many days. 

i Ethelwald seemed to look with" regret at 
the shades gathering without my : window,*— 
the snow began to" fall -in- large flakes ; by for- 
e5 



106 IDOMEN. 

©st and river- he had eleven English miles to 
go 5 yet he still seemed inclined to linger* — - 
the company who had followed us from the 
dining- table, left the room a moment to look 
at some painted doe skin dresses, lately pur- 
chased from the Indians > his exquisite mouth 
was near mine in speakiog low, and I gave 
him what had thrice been denied. " Is this 
first kiss," said a voice from the deepest reces- 
ses of my soul, "the seal of thy death or of 
thy happiness 1" I shuddered. To die with 
him I loved, at that moment, had been more 
than I can fancy of heaven 5 but to see him no 
more on earth; was what I daEed not think up- 
■on. 

* It had already become dark ; and the fami- 
ly gathered round tie door, as Ethelwald made 
his adieus, smiling at the storm lie was to 
brave . 

' I mingled, as accustomed,, in the amuse- 
ments of the evening ; and even sang songs to 
please, others 5 but to me r all was insipid ; eve- 
ry thing seemed hollow and unmeaning, for 
the joy of my soul was withdrawn* 

6 From time to tike, expressions were drop- 
ped in praise of him 9 who, so lately, had made 
paradise of the little dim room ; and then, 
while I heard his name, I was happy, 

4 Most of the company had known his fami^ 
ly, and described with enthusiasm, the beauty 
of his mother., and then the last sister he had 



THE CONFESSIONS. 107 

lost. . . " When she died," they said ? " Walter 
Eodolph tore his bright hair ;' and it was fear- 
ed he -would that day follow this last of his 
beautiful brethren." 

4 He seemed to be regarded by the artless 
speakers around me, as a being unlike the rest 
of men $ and they paid to me a species of hom- 
age, because I was the subject of his attention. 

* At nine o'clock refreshments of the coun- 
try were served ; thin cakes, dipped in syrup 
of the same maple, which, inautufen, decorates 
their forests with foliage scarlet as the tujip ? 
— walnuts, butternuts, jelly of red currants,, 
sweetmeats of wild- plums, and conserve of 
raspberries that grow so profusely where the 
thick woods have been felled. 

6 A boat song or chanson sur Peau, was sung 
at my request. The rhymes seemed as if com- 
posed extemporally ; but the simply pleasing 
air was one of those which 4ccord most sweet- 
ly with the murmuring. rivers and cascades, so 
abundant in the rocky wilds of Canada. The 
chorus or "refrain," ran thus. 

" Voila long tems que je t 5 aime ? 
Jamais je ne i'oublieraL" 

In its course, the words also struck my ear 1 
" J'ai perdu ma maitresse, 
Jamais ne je la retrouverai 5 
Pour un bouquet de rose 
Que jelui ai refuse 
Je voudrois que la rose . 
Fat, encore au' rosier*" 



108 , IDOMEN. 

' The songs at length, were over, the dim 
stove replenished with boughs from the neigh- 
boring woods, and before the clock of the 
seminary struck eleven, every head beneatli 
our roof was on its pillow. 

'"Beware,"- says Plato, " of the kiss."— 
Many, perhaps, have found by experience that 
Plato had reason for that caution 

'While still at Quebec, even after the ban- 
quet of a letter bearing the ' four beautiful 
names of my friend, my slumbers were but lit- 
tle interrupted- My heart had received an 
impression, but the stamp had not, then, drawn 
Wood. Now, it had sunk., below the surface 
to a depth that was soon to be discovered., 

4 Memory was too faithful. I feared not for 
Ethelwald ; for a Canadian boatman, who 
loved ■ him, was his conductor. • The winds, 
besides, were not violent ; and the river of his 
birth was well known where he Crossed. But 
the first hurried pressure of my lips, given as 
he was- going forth to meet a storm, braved on 
my account, had been returned with an eager- 
ness that was now felt again and again.- — 
When I sank to a momentary sleep, it seemed 
as if his arms supported me ■; — but fears min- 
gled with" my dreams, and I woke, startled and 
unrefreslied. 

'In the morning, the cold had increased; 
and two days passed without a word from Trais 
Rivieres. On the third day some boatmen 



THE CONFESSIONS. 109 

made their way over the closing river in an 
Indian canoe of bark, -sometimes trusting to 
the waves, and sometimes dragging over ice, 
their light manageable vessel. ,By these means 
a letter reached me, Which related in a play- 
ful manner the return of him who left me, for 
his home, on the last stormy night. 

c The winds had not been violent, but the 
waves were about to congeal, and the dark- 
ness was so bewildering that the rower had 
missed his way. These words were in the let- 
ter of Ethelwald: " The poor fellow vms in 
such a fright^ that he left the boat entirely to me ; 
but fortunately , a dear little nun^ soon hung out 
a light from the highest window of her convent" 
(at Trois Rivieres,) " we soon saw it, and were 
conducted in safety to our landing." 

i The lettertellingthis was affectionate, but 
1 thought I could perceive in it a slight differ- 
ence from the others. It' promised a visit 
soon, but left the dear when untold* 

6 While expecting one beloved or admired, 
there is always a certain preparation which 
occupies both mind and person. The sweet 
Ladauanna, was frozen, and could now, I knew, 
be crossed. Three days I braided my hair, 
and placed music and a flower of winter on 
the table near my favorite window. ; But still, 
I looked in vain, towards the slope ; of : the* hill 
of the seminary, for that figure, which could 
not be mistaken. I did all I could ,td be cheer- 



HO 1DOMEN. 

ful,- but, at 'night, retired sadly to my pillow. ' 

6 On .the fourth morning came — not my 
friend but a letter dated late, on the night 
preceding. 

'Ethelwald to write tome, had retired from 
a convivial circle ,• in " the moment of mirth, 3 * 
he had thought of his solitary: expectant ; his 
lines, though entirely unguarded,' weFe such 
as might well be dear to me. They were 
meet for\ne eye but that of a friend, and I 
prized them the more that they were not, 

' Yet the fifth, sixth, and seventh day pass- 
ed ; — ■still Ethelwald was absent,, He came no 
more, like a- god of Grecian- mythology, to dif- 
fuse light and summer through my lone and 
wintry habitation. 

c My nights became almost sleepless— my 
days passed- in fruitless excitement. The 
beautiful being who had charmed me, kept con- 
tinually embodied to my mind 5— and I often 
sank upon my couch, exhausted by that strong 
mental. effort which was constant, and wore 
on my system, .though entirely unconscious 
and involuntary. My earthly frame was 'too 
weak for the continual demands of " ideality." 

'Every day I grew thinner and thinner,. till 
I realized the words of the psalmist beloved 
by protestants and puritans-: -" My- -beauty 
wasteth away, even as a .moth fretteth a gar- 
ment." ' The thought was bitterness I — even 
now, how far was I inferior to the object ©fa 



THE CONFESSIONS. Ill 

love and admiration, too wild and intense 
to be endured or to endure ■% Was all this 
change in a week 1 — how then could I live, if 
deprived .... I dared not think of it ! . . . 

6 The family around, perceived in me /f a dif- 
ference,- b ut ascribed it to "mal depays." 

£ The pastor of the English chapel near the 
" manor house," visited me as one of hisfloeko 
This was a man, destitute of worldly prudence, 
but his heart was kindandgood. He perceiv- 
ed that my health was declining, and reverted 
to the visits I had received, till I thought he 
suspected the state of my feelings* He did 
not enquire what had passed, but told me that 
the friends of Ethelwald were, now, overwhel- 
ming him with fetes and invitations. So much 
of the time of their favorite, they were deter- 
mined should - not be passed among the pine 

trees of N 1. Alas! what ..had I done, 

that strangers should conspire against my hap- 
piness 1 

4 In the picturesque towns of Canada, there 
lived families who had beautiful daughters ; 
and he, who was an ornament to every room 
that he entered, and to every street where he 
walked, had lived single to the age of twenty- 
eight* Must this paragon of the country be 
monopolized — and 'perhaps, even carried' off 
by a stranger whom nobody knew 1— -(A Yan» 
keel) t ' J 

i At the castle of St. Louis, at Quebec, the . 



-112 IDOMEN. 

■ fair sons and daughters of fair Britain, were 
wont to be often assembled. Ethelwald, 
(though born in Canadian America, and appa- 
rently unconscious of the merits -he possessed,) 
was a man whose fortune, would have been 
made had he lived in the time, and been seen 
by a Catharine of Russia. Ethelwald must 
adorn the handsome groups at the castle. So 
thought Lady D e, while directing the ar- 
rangement of her drawing room, or looking 
from her window far over the magnificent ba~ 
sin* of the spreading Ladaiianna. 

i This lady lived, in effect, as the vice-queen 
of her province. The' handsome officer from 
England, the amiable descendant of France, 
the half-civilized Indian of the- forest f — all,, 
with the females whom they lo^ed, delighted 
in paying to her, their varied homage. The 

.wishes of this lady were seconded by the pow- 
er of her husband, and her regards had been 
directed -to Ethelwald. 

4 Had these things transpired but one month 
before, I should, have lost a few brief days of 
pleasure, yet escaped such degrees of pain as 

* Nothing could exceed the magnificence of the pros- 
pect from the window of the Castle of St. Louis., which 
has since been destroyed by fire. 

■ f Nicolas Vincent Zauanaui, the same grand chief of 
the Hurons who had an audience of George IV* in En-. 
gland, went sometimes with his wife 9 who also spoke 
English, to the Castle, 



THE CONFESSIONS, 113 ' 

are felt but by few among mof tals* But now 
hope had been indulged $ the arrow had enter- ■» 
ed 1 .and to -tear -it forth again was a torment 
mof€ dreadful than death. ■ 

6 Three other days and nights passed away., 
and still I saw not the friend whose' presence 
had become to* me, as needful as the sun to a 
garden of the north. 

s Hitherto, I had almost disdained the gifts 
of the world and of fortune \ the mere want of 
them might now, he my perdition. I felt my- 
self as a withering blossom, which God alone ? 
could resuscitate \ and yet, I was too weak 
even to ask of heaven, the only dew which 
could restore me. The reptile of suspicion 
was creeping towards my heart, and the winds 
that blew over me, seemed chill from the des- 
erts of despair. 

* 1 dared not write to Eth'elwald, nor to ask 
of him the cause of his absence "5 to find him 
cold -.or unfaithful was more to be dreaded, . 
even than the pain of the burning 'Suspense I 
endured. 

i While still " in this miserable state, Henry 
Arlington, the commercial partner of my ab- 
sent cousin, Pharamond, came to visit me in' 
my retirement. He seemed shocked at the 
change in my manners and countenance, yet 
spoke of the gay manner in which Mr. Ethel- 
wald had. lived, particularly for the last"" two 
weeks. 

s6' 



.114 IDOMEN* 

4 The devotion of this breathing image of a 
deity, to a retired woman, had, it appeared, 
been discussed in every circle 3 and every ef- 
fort had been made to amuse and detain Eth- 
elwald. 

" Lord D e, our Governor," said Ar- 
lington, "exerts himself to obtain promotion 
for his new favorite. A succession of parties 
are contrived for him , his head will be turned 
with vanity 5 and I am told, even now, he in- 
tends getting published some of your verses, 
in praise of his own beauty." 

4 1 felt-a sickness .at my heart;' but so strong 
was the self-command, acquired while I lived 
with poor Burleigh, that I now -succeeded in 
suppressing, all. violent emotion. During the 
whole conversation, I had been walking the 
room with Arlington, but perceiving that my 
steps began tp falter, I sat down as we ap- 
proached the sofa. 

1 During ail my life, I had never fainted save 
from loss of blood j but strength at this mo- 
ment had entirely forsaken me. 

i Arlington saw that I was ill, hut that he 
had noticed when he first entered. He now 
changed the subject of his speaking | and 
strongly advised me to leave awhile' little Ar- 
von, my son, and visit his -.wife at -Quebec. 1 
promised, that if not better I would come, f and 
he -soon after left me, promising to return. . the 
next day before proceeding on his way t& 
Montreal. 



THE CONFESSIONS, 115 

8 It was difficult to sit through the daily re- 
past when he was gone ;— -soup, bird, and 
sweetmeats, were as slips of paper on my 
tongue, for all external sense of taste was he- 
numbed by the feelings that absorbed me. I 
retired to my chamber and lay down awhile 
on my.- couch, unconscious of the passing of 
hours, but awake to a conflict indescribable, 

' When the hour for tea had arrived, the 
Canadian servant came to call me to that lit- 
tle drawing-room where I had passed days and 
hours resembling heaven ; but my head ached ; 
1 desired to be left to repose, but slept not, 
for I could not weep. 

c The night passed in thoughts that devour- 
ed me. Had Ethelwald felt no regard V — had 
he visited me only for amusement'? Could 
lie wound me to the quick,.to gratify a trifling 
vanity? — Could he, who had seemed so ten- 
der and noble, unreflectingly doom me to per- 
ish 1 — to think so unworthily of one so dear, 
was worse than to leave him forever. 

* Have I then, I thought, become an incon- 
venience 1— He whom the world caresses shall 
soon, if so 9 be set at ease. 

'My thoughts became insufferable.; I threw 
myself from side to side upon my bed, and 
made and rejected a hundred plans of* proce- 
dure. Fixing at length upon one— one stern 
resolve, I found, as I reflected on it,"as it were f . 
a cruel alleviation of my torment* 



116 IDQMEN. 



1 In the morning I arose weak' and languid^ 
but firmly intent upon my purpose. 

6 1 first gathered together music, papers, 
gloves, and every little proof of kindness which. 

the beautiful Ethelwald had brought to me. — ■ 
Then with excessive pain 1 penned a note, the 
contents of which have now fled from my mem- 
ory ? and brought a large sheet of paper to en- 
close the packet I had made. . 

1 While folding the ample envelope, the first 
thing I saw was music, presented by this friend 
of times past, when I first knew him at P— - — d, 
—-so young — so beautiful — so apparently un° 
conscious and sincere ! ^ 

* ¥ oi five years I- had looked at. this music, 
and never till now, with other emotions than 
those/of pleasure, y A shriek almost -escaped 
me as it disappeared beneath the paper 1. was 
folding. I felt as if acting against some strong 
resistance, and every nerve seemed. strained 5 
as I doubled the last, corner of 'the paper that 
enclosed it. 

* When, it was entirely out of sight, I could 
proceed better 3 and lighted my .taper at the 
stove. 

c The packet was soon fastened with a rib- 
and, and seal of Hack bearing' my usual im- 
pression. 

- 1 & Hooked at h 9 when alone,and- shrank back 
•—was it not the seal of my destiny T and did 
not some unseen being direct the movements 
of that morning 1 



THE CONFESSIONS. 117. 

c Scarcely had I finished when Arlington 
came, as he had promised, to ask if I had any 
commands for him. Here, I said, is a parcel 
and a letter. Will you present them to Mjv 
Ethelwald as you pass through Trois Rivieres ? 
He looked for an instant at the packet and at 
me, and then said, "'Mrs. Burleigh, you are 
certainly ill, and I fear lest I said too much 
during yesterday's conversation It is not 
for me to ask what are the contents of -this ' 
letter and parcel i hut let me advise you not 
to send them till you have had time for reflec- 
tion." I have reflected, was my answer, and 
when once resolved it is better to execute. 

' Arlington was intent upon business 5 and 
being in haste to accomplish it, he took the 
parcel and letter and departed, repeating his 
wishes to see me, erelong, at Quebec. 

' When again left alone, I endeavored, to 
find consolation, and to- resign myself to the 
will of Heaven, to that spirit who, felt but im= 
seen, marks out the destiny of mortals. 

'I strove to applaud .myself for what I had 
done, as an act of generosity and duty ° 3 — but 
ere the next day had passed, came a letter 
from Ethelwald. 

/fc With a feeling, haply \ like that of the sav- 
age warrior of the woods, whose death song 
is composed, I jbroke jthe seal of this paper ? 
traced by the JKahd of one far dearer and more 
charming to ipe f than life to the hunter of the 
forest. 



IIS 2D0MEN* 

■ i Had the words of this letter • "been either 
light or indifferent j pride would . have been 
awakened, and the passions that follow in her 
train might have, assisted me in, recovering 
from the shock. But every expression of. -my 
Beloved was that of gentleness and sorrow. 

* After telling me that his absence had been 
■entirely the result of unavoidable 'circumstan- 
ces, """How could you, for a moment," lie 
continued^ "believe -a report which would 
prove me, if true,- a false friend, base- in feel- 
ing and in character 1 ( ought yon not first to 
have considered'!- — Everything once mine you 
have returned;' have I deserved this at your 
hands X You say '" let us hot meet again." — ■ 
I will not visit you if you desire it not, but if 
we meet by accident, I cannot be so -inconsis- 
tent, as not. to continue to evince for you the 
regard I have felt and expressed." 

6 Thus wrote; Ethelwald, a seraph in mind 
as in form, under, circumstances, where any 
other man would have shown both pique -and 
resentment. Every line of the paper in my 
hand was breathing with tenderness, combined 
with a sense of injury, which renewed with 
double force every feeling of my love- and ad- 
miration. 

'All excuse and self-complacency forsook 
me | degraded in my own" eyes, I fellas' if un- 
worthy either of heaven or of earth. 

i My frame was already weak with what I 



THE .CONFESSIONS lit 

had suffered of suspense ; now all power seem- 
ed also forsaking my mind, save one only of 
self-torture. Still I sank not entirely ; accus- 
tomed from childhood, to reflect much, and 
often' thrown upon my own resources, I made 
constant effort to look calmly at the. worst and 
■to seek for hope and -amusement in vague and 
distant objects. - 

* The hymn ? which you will find among my 
papers, of that winter which I shudder to think , 
of, was the fruit of onepi'^any sleepless 'nights- 
It depicts but faintly,- the suffering that became 
less intense whenever I could express the'' 
slightest pang of il in verse. 

Sire of.the universe, — and me 3 
DoFt.*nou reject my midnight prayer ? 
j)ost thon withhold me e*vn from thee ? 
T-ous writhing, struggling 'gainst. despair ? 

Thou know'st the source of feeling's gusfa s 
Thou know'st the end for which it flows— 
Then— if thou bid'st the tempest rush^ 
Ah ! heed the fragile bark it throws I 

Fain would my heaving heart "be still — - 
But painand tumult mock at rest : 
Fain would I meekly meet thy will, 
And kiss the barb that tears my heart. 

') 
Weak I am formed, I can no mora, _ 
Weary I strive 5 but find not aid,— 
Prone "on thy threshold! -deplore,- ""' " "■ H f 

But ah ! thy succour is delayed ! 



£20 - 2D0MEN o 

The burning, beauteous orb of day^ 

Amid its circling host upborn^ 

Smiles, as life quickens in its ray— 

What would it, were thy hand withdrawn ?-— 

Scorch — devastate the teeming whole 
Now .glowing with its warmth divine! 
Spirit whose powers., of peace,, control 
Great nature's heart, oh I'pity mine ! 

4 That winter. whiah I tremble to recall aflfeif. 

■ moment of vivid re collection ;— -that winter. : 
gijpwed :,: one day of .happiness,, which memory * 
.will always retain, an$ fty N -to ihe picture she 
has made of it* when the pfojsent is dull or lan- 
guid — all the pain of that wirvter, which to 
think of,, oh! mf friend, makW^me/. shudder 
even in thy presence, and while breathing the 
perfume' of -these'; fioWers-^the:;: ; p^|ii^of that 
winter and of my life, was, perhaps, \oo small 
aprice for the, : ha^pines.S:of .such;' adayi? 

" Thns," : exclaimecl- ■D.aj&qur *> u doth xiatitte 
evince her kindnessl! \ ''^feevmind^^'^iiere she 
seigns, casts aside' the remembrance' of pain> 
and treasures every .moment of pleasure,- 'to 
look upon with joy, through the varying path 
of futurity.., : Idomen: co^ld.itorget^months, and 
even years of sulfering^to dwell &jpb&i%£ meifi- 

■dry of one day ; and the; color that now man- 
. Ued^on her cheek; almost 'pale be/for e;s;le;spoke r 

' ifose from the' excitement of that long past 
day of satisfaction* 



THE CONFESSIONS. 121' 

" I wished to piolong the sentiment so plea™ 
sing*, tho 5 indefinite, and was fain not to sniffer 
my friend to invert immediately to scenes that 
I knew must follow. I presented to the now 
•smiling Idomen, an orange, brought by Benito 
on 'a piece of fresh plantain leaf. The faith- 
ful-boy had peeled, it with his ebony fingers, 
' |l||i f always" pliant :nnd : unsoiled for ; the .-.■ light .• ' 
labors he loved,) and opened it, without spill- 
ifig% .drop of nectarious juice, at its own deli-* 
i eate "divisions. ■ ■ | 

"Idomen swallowed It in complacency, but 
said :-r- i My friend, do not fear to exhaust me 5 
the scenes I soon shall (describe were indeed 3 
terrible, while passing, .but to speak of them 
now, ; amid flowers and- {fruits presented to me 
by the hand of .friendship, J feel to be almost,, 
a. pleasure. .. So the mariner, while seated on 
the"deck. of a new skifl^on a calm -sea, rosy 
with twilight, reverts to! tEfc. horrors of a wreck., 
escaped, only one -voyage before. ■; 

fi Iknow not, yeft the /will of heaven 5 but. 



whatever :&e^may- be;n^arked - out for ■■ me^the 
past;- at. least, is certain 1 ,; and mine. ,. 

* I would, not give the scenes past withEth- 
elwald, with all.- their pain of more than many 
deaths, for a. whole long life of calm happi- 
ness. 3 

- Ji -This, again," saidj Dale our, 'fHtar nature! 

and yet, 1 knew .■ it wellj to beibpt^aspas^iigFliy-- 

• perbole, the overflow of excessive excitement 

F 



122 -'■ IDOMlf. -- 1 . v.'..: 

which gushed, in this speech, from the lips of 
her who had, suffered. Had the' choice been 
offered, Women would have tee^ found;, obe- 
dient to duty and to reason. 

"When a- few brief moments" were passed^ 
I again desired Madame Burleigh to proceed., 
in sincerity, with her story j but her lips were' 
still moist with the fragrant' gift I had present- 
ed* She retired to the court, a moment, and 
rinced, habitually, the delicious sweetness of 
the orange from the "^well kept 'ivory of her 
mouth. No care was ever spared by Idomen 
to preserve from a decay, so "common among 
the fragile beauties of the new world, 1 such 
gifts as should always be guarded, because 
they are received from heaven. But when 
this moment had been given to the angel of 
health, she sat down again by my side, remain- 
ed a -little while silent, and thus continued her 
story ; 

c In beings formed to taste it keenly, the de- 
sire of happiness; is '■ strong. Happiness, in its 
utmost excess, had been but lately in my view. 
Had my own hand broken the- cup, 'which hea- 
ven itself had presented I • ! f asked my self this, 
and conceived^ for the first time in my life,, of 
the torments ascribed to those wretched souls 
in perdition,' who have been shown, for a mo- 
ment, the delights of paradise, to be told that 
their own -sins -have shut them, forever, front 
the scene. Alas ! with such a consciousness, 



THE CONFESSIONS. 123 

what 'need of the fbe,S| of -matter, o.r the scorch- 
ing, of external arteries 1 , 

'In the midst of such reflections as these, 
came a card from the "manor house." A 
large ' ball was to he : given, and Ethelwald, 1 
knew,- wonld be invited. 
:;, s Biit- one month before, with what pleasure 
eould I have adorned myself to meet Mm at 
such a festivity 1 — hut now 1 — the thought was 
a stab to my heart \ oinniiiilatign, even, would 
at that moment, have j been preferable. * * 

i Ethelwald, I thought, would be there ;. and 
gay, thoughtless persons might come, also, on 
purpose to look,in curiosity, on one, to whom* 
the present favorite., of the world around him, 
had devoted whole days, and even weeks. To 
meet such persons, would require my utmost 
health and firmness | how, then, pained and al- 
tered as I was, could I sustain the glances of 
scrutiny % 

1 1 feared to meet the gaze of the multitude ; 
yet one look of kindness from him I had offend- 
ed, would/ have -been: to me like the dew-cup 
of the deserts .of Florida, to the slave dying of 
thirst, yet fugitive, and fearing to return to the 
well or. fountain of hijs master.* 

4 The night of the ball arrived, ami the cold 




* This flower, in the form of a cup, and containing a 
imft of piire-dew, Was said, 4>y-early' wifteis, to be found 

la tte stagnant marshes of Florida. A note to the same 
effect lias already heeri given in this work* 
f2 



•124? ID0MEN. 

increased to an intensity which, mingled with 
the heat of stoves, pained every vein and ar- 
tery on the surface of my sensitive skin. The 
pain of niy heart was still keener ; but a faint 
gleam of hope' was like the sun of approaching 
spring. 

1 i A young relative of my host, had come to 
N 1 for the ball.; and learned, with un- 
feigned regret, that I was too ill to go. Her 
name was Elm ire; she, I knew, ..would speak 
of* me to Ethelwald, and the next day, oh! 
heaven ! — might bless me with an interview, 

i A dress of pale blue was chosen by this 
gentle girl. Azure, celestial -azure, was the 
favorite colour yof him -who reigned in my 
thoughts. Witii an impulse, accompanying 
my natural love of beauty, I" assisted at her 
toilet, and helped to arrange her fair locks so 
as best to comport with the style and colour 
of her face, neck, and garments. 

; i When all' was/' finished, her hair, counte- 
nance and vestment's were so complete in the 
harmony -of tints, 'W? Ito waken in me, when I 
looked : at -"her, despite of the pain at my "heart, 
a feeling almost delightful. 

'I felt, as it were, a spirit too sad to enter 

paradise^ who comes weeping to fold the robes 

of some messenger to that smiling region. 

f'\ The reputation for loveliness is'-generally 

[ obtained by- some circumstance. Often, after 

: hearing the praises of a belle of some town or 



THE CONFESSIONS. 125 

village, a stranger, while beholding her among 
her companions, is heard to ask, "which is the 
beauty 1" 

6 With the gentle Elmire it was otherwise. 
She had never been vaunted. Few travellers 
go searching for violets or lilies of the valley, 
when roses and magnolias are flaunting, in 
their fragrance, around them j yet violets and 
lilies, were they near at hand, would often 
be chosen in preference. 

c When Elmire was complimented, she blush- 
ed, turned aside, and spoke of the beauty- of 
her mother. 

' That mother soon came to M- 1, to 

take back Elmire to her home. : In her youth 
she had lived at a remote ."township," in the 
midst of Canadian forests ; and her mortal form, 
taough entirely neglected, remained still, as 
little impaired as nature, unassisted by mortal 
skill, could, in any climate, have preserved it. 
The happy peasants of her. neighborhood had 
named her in their simplicity, ■" Vange des bois^ 
Her beauty, except that of Ethelwald, was the 
most perfect I ever had seen. Both have liv- 
ed, and will probably cease to live, ; in some 
one of the grove.s or! cities of a country, with- 
out other poets than the savage archers of the 
forest. , j ' 

4 When suekfor-na&of beauty come on earth, 
perhaps, ere they fade or change, some :model 
is made of them, for lie'aven. Or ' perhaps, they 
f3 



.126 IDOME-N. 

<some to show -for a moment, some glimpse of 
what, in heaven, is eternal,. when forms shall 
take the cast of divinity, and every lovely par- 
ticle, that seemed lost and scattered upon 
earth, shall he called and united to its own, to 
smile and to bloom forever. 

4 When Elmire was gone, I felt weak, and 
Retired to my couch,-^-there, though I slept 
not, the night, was. less, painful than those 
which had lately preceded it 3 for a glimmer 
of hope was -in view, as I looked forward to 
the morning. 

i Ethelwalci was to be at the "ball 5. could he 
leave N— — t without- -seeing that friend, to 
visit whom he tad. so lately crossed the Ladau- 
anna in storms V 

'-At-iour : o'clock, ■ the young visitor- return- 
•ed. Ilreard' some of the family arise to ad- 
mit her, but feared to call and ask her ques° 
tlons, 

f 6 When the soul has, suffered much, it clings 
'to- the faintest hope, even, as the infant, whose 
mouthis; sore^ :claspsiwith his little transparent 
.hand;the smooth coral and silver bells, and 
shrinks from the food presented. 
/■ 4 It seems better to embrace an illusion than 
I to hazard 3 by certainty, the renewal of ineifa- 
l_ Me pain. With the first, a little rest was pos- 
sible — the last would have banished repose en- 
tirely from my pillow* 

6 In the morning^ eie Breakfast was ready, 



THE CONFESSIONS. 127 

Elmire came to my bed-side. ? She told me 
that Ethelwald had danced little, and spoken 
with her, often, through the evening \ that he 

expressed sorrow at not seeing me as he ex- 
pected \ the more, as a party of friends had 

engaged him to cross the river as soon as 
the company should separate, to proceed with 
them at that early hour, upon the frozen St» 
Lawrence to Quebec. 

4 Besides this intelligence, a note soon ar= 
rived from, my beloved, which evidently had 
been penned during the late festivity. . Of 
tenderness it was full, like the letters I still 
preserved, but the hurry of the scene, and. the 
influence of mirthful companions, were, also, 
both perceived in its contents. 

i Hope now fled, and the -light, agai%, was 
misery. .Elmire wished me to return, 'with 
her and with her mother, to their residence at 
Trots Rivieres. ' • 

6 At any other time I should have 'shrunk 
from the cold ; but change of place is often de- 
sirable to the wretched. 

1 1 sawmy little ArvOn^ and prepared,' oirthe 
second day after the ball, to accompany the 
mild Eltiiire,' with her father and her mother, 
to their abode. 

" ' Eight English miles we had proceeded 5 ove* 
the country 5 : when- -our mriole, ^-descendei to 
the ice of- the-' Lad&uanns^ which,- -seemed like 
a pavement of crystal. 
f4« 



128 IDOMEN, 

. '• The "whole 'snowy landscape was magnifi- 
cent, but to. 16 ok at it long-, could be done, on- 
ly at the peril of death or mutilation.* 

c The quicksilver of the thermometer stood 
at a point which it reaches but in few parts of 
Europe. The same degrees of latitude in the 
New -World, are well known .to be far colder 
than in those eastern regions long inhabited 
by civilized man. 

c In the frozen Ladauanna, there are always 
,open chasms. Through these, as is -. said by 
the peasants, " the great river breathes. 5 ' — 
How superb was its breath on that day ! 

' Our cariole; drawn By a little thick-haired 
Canadian horse/seemed but as a speck in the 
snowy immensity around us v 

4 One English mile we had rode upon its fro 
zen waves, and another mile was yet to be pasto 

4 1 -held over my mouth my closely furred 
hood, and only made bare my eyes to look at 
the- scene before me,- — at the breath of the vast 
river. ■ f ■ , 

£ Through those deep chasms or mouths*. 
through which breathed, the Ladauanna, arose 
clouds of- vapor, mounting to the sky, — assum- 
ing the form of phantoms j — mingling light and 
shade, — and sparkling in the cold beams of the 
distant sun . of winter* 

* During the intense cold 'of Canada., it is not uncom- 
mon, ibr. cqreless travellers, to freeze dangerously their 
ears and faces. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 129 

£ 1 thought of the depths whence arose those 
brilliant vapors, — and an idea darted through 
'my soul. Could I throw myself into the midst 
of these shining particles, the warm wave be- 
neath would receive me, and how soon could 
I be safe from all the disappointments of the 
world ! . . 

4 Attended as I was, I could not stir from the 
cariole. Had escape at that moment been 
possible, the thought would have been obey a 
ed, perhaps, as suddenly as conceived. It 
could not 'be — yet my mind from that moment 
became possessed with a design, which hea- 
wen alone has frustrated. 

€ After two or three hours, we ascended the 
bank of the river, and soon reached the dwelling 
of Madame C— 1, in a street of Trots Rivieres. 
The rest of the family appeared. and welcomed, 
with embraces, Elmire and their parents. — 
•" L'ange des hois" was living in one of those 
low-roofed abodes of her country, which dis- 
play all the charms of hospitality. 

• c The table was already spread. Canada, 
with its still few inhabitants, is a country of 
ease and of j>lenty. Soup was followed by 
venison and birds of the forest, kept frozen in 
snow, since the autumn. 

c Wild nutSj wild fruits preserved in the su- 
gar of the maple, and the beautiful apples of 
Montreal, kept always bright and unfrozen,* 

f ' No apples in the world are more beautiful than those 
f5 



ISO EDQMEN* 

and fair -as -the fruit of the fabled Hesperides, 

composed the dessert, while pieces of ancient 
plate told the families of 'Europe from which 
my- kind hostess and her children had descent 
ded. Their present was happy ; their past was 
tender regret 5 and pleasing- hopes adorned 
their future. 

'•Madame C— 4 spoke freely, "'herself, of her 
mneomffiom personal perfections, but took no 
pains either to display or to embellish them. 

' "Pntinetiired either with vanity or ambition, 
she confided in the love of her husband; and 
thought only : of him, her children and her 
household. ^ ( • ■ " 

s Yet her face was still of fair colors, while 
nothing could exceed its outline j her hair was 
still shining $ her light brown eyes softly 
bright 1 her lips full and red 5 and her hands s 
though much used, white and taper. 

* The dwelling where Ethelwald was born 
could be seen ■ from her ■ window- She -had 
known his mother -and brethren, and spoke o£ 
them all in terms of love and admiration. ' 

'I have said that the friend' whose absence 
made 'me miserable, was the last who survived 
of his family, Ifadame C-^—l spoke of the 
favor he had lately obtained'in the sight of 
the governor of the ■■ province-, and said^ it was 

$f Montreal. The sunny side of the mountain near that 

city, is favorable for gardens ; the inhabitants have a sort 
of passion for its culture j and fruits are abundant around 
it. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 131 

surprising- that one like Ethelwald, had already- 
remained so long, contented in the place of 
his nativity* 

- 4 The verses, oh! my early and constant 
friend, which drew from you so much concern 
for my happiness, . when I showed them to 

you at P — ■ d, were given anonymously to a 

journal of the day, and when printed, with the 
permission of my husband, were sent, stijj. 
anonymously, to Ethelwald. His soft eyes 
had read them ; — his musical voice had pro- 
nounced them 5 — his kind heart had suspected 
whence they came ;«-and his white hands, after 
five years had passed, unfolded and showed 
them to me again, one delicious evening at 
If- — : 1. Five years he had remained con- 
tented near the roof of his childhood, . and 
sometimes read in secret, a few verses, the 
only. proof of regard from a woman, whom he 
had then. known hut a week. Why did he 
preserve them 1— What scenes have since trans- 
pired 1— Why had our late meetings been per- 
mitted by heaven V 

* This I . unconsciously, asked of my soul, 
now so deeply troubled, I heard and rejoic- 
ed at Ms honors j — but when I thought of my- 
.selfj my whole being, as it were, seemed shiv- 
eiing. within ;Me, ; , and the design I. had. formed 
while crossing- the ice ■■ of tl , 
■sorbed every inward thought with renewed 
.intensity. . - ; 

* Yet, dark aff was all within me, 1 respond- 



' 132 rDQMEN* 

ed to the courtesy of my fair hostess and her 
beloved. I 1 listened to their artless songs of 
the country, and sang them others, in return, 
though with a voice that, in my own ear, was 
hollow, and with a feeling entirely indescri- 
bable. By many an early struggle I had learn- 
ed -the art of seeming cheerful to those around 
me, while my .heart, in secret, was desolate or 
suffering. I Thus, sometimes, on a sod'of Flor- 
Jida, are seen pale flowers and verdure, while 
I the hollow darkness beneath it, is tenanted by 
l a serpent and her progeny. 

' Early the next day, the father of Elmire 

conducted me back to 'N '——t. The cold 

had a little diminished;' but the breath of the 
Ladaiianna still mounted in columns to the 
skies, and its waters, covered with snow, re- 
sembled rocks of crystal, heaped with feath- 
ers .of the- ptarmigan. I thought of my design 
of yesterday, and wished that its current was 
flowing. 

<N- 1, which had lately seemed bean° 

tiful, — N -t, with its dark gray seminary 

and glittering spires,' ; with its grove of "pines 
and river, broad, my friend, as the Seine of thy 
country, -though but small as a tributary of the 

St. Lawrence. N — t, with ■' it's happy Kt- 

tle dwelling, where I had passed the sweetest 
moments of my life, seemed now J the -dearest 
place for my tomb, and I longed to lay me down 
in the bosom of a land that seemed to me as a 
foster mother. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 133 

I deemed that the world could, to me, be n© 
longer '"-as before 5 yet even for years ere this 
p.eriod, vague hopes for the future "were -some- 
times all that made it endurable. 

£ My desire, now, -was for death 5 but what 
would become of my boy, of my fair little Ar- 
¥on, already too much an orphan 1 — would not 
suicide also, be guilt 1 — to me it had never 
seemed a crime ; — still there was a doubt ! 

- 1 pondered long in secret, and went through 
long trains of reasoning. Arguments, whis- 
pered, perhaps, by some evil spirit, arose in 
favor of my purpose. 

4 Men of ancient times, — men who thought 
much, men who lived nearer than we to the 
time of the creation, believed, that at least, 
two genii attended the steps of every mortal 
The "adorable bearer of the cross said nothing 
to disprove this belief y. — he, even, was tempted, 
and prayed to be delivered from temptation. 3 

"Idomen was weak and overwhelmed; the 
power that preservedher was not mortal. c Oh ! 
father of spirits, desert me not again ! for I 
know I live only by thy protection. 3 

" I trembled," said Dalcour, " as I looked 
intently on the blooming fair-haired woman by 
my side. Her face was covered with her 
hands. Of those which are called the stormy 
passions, her heart was : -entirely destitute. — 
Anger, hatred, and revenge, endanger the- 
peace of others j but far more dangerous to 



134< ■ IDOMEN. 

the possessor is an excess of these feelings, 
which are good only when governed by rea- 
son, or by heaven. 

"Idomen soon recovered her composure^ 
and said': — 6 I have promised, oh! my friend, 
to tell thee all | 1 conceal not a thought or a 
sentiment 5 thy regard would possess no charm 
for me, if; obtained by falsehood or deceit._ ' 

i See me, then* as I am ! — Behold that Ido- 
men whom heaven has preserved, and esteem 
her stillj, if thou wilt. Without fault, there is 
said to be no human being ; happy then, is 
she who is still esteemed, when all her faults 
are made apparent V 

"Proceed," I said, " in thy story 9 as thou- 

hast begun. My esteem, Idomen is already 

thine. Truth for me, is enough. . I do not ask 

perfection. "] While the tongue is unsoUed with 

[falsehood, there is little corruption at the heart. 

4 Yet dreadful) 1 said Idomen, were the hours 
that I would •depict: to thee J . I soon resolved 
fully on death. My imagination heavily . em- 
ployed itself in devising means' to execute a 
deed that might, free me, at once, from the 
world and all its evils* Yet great as was at 
■this time $ my suffering, its endurance even 
seemed preferable to the shock that might he 
felt by my boy, . 

6 Yet my Arvon had, now, become acquaint^ 
_€,d with those around him j he spoke French a 
liitfej and was eontented* Seeing my drooD- 



THE CONFESSIONS. 135 

ing state, lie desired me, witk ills own lips 5 
that I loved, to go to Quebec, stay till I was 
"better, and then return to him -again. 

'His innocent wishes determined me,- 1 
wrote to Henry Arlington that my health re* 
quired a change of scene, and a young rela- 
tion was immediately sent to escort me. 

*i parted with my child, as I thought for 
the last time on earth. My sleepless night© 
had continued. After once more crossing 
the frozen Ladaiianna, and while stopping at 
Trots Rivieres, I desired my young attendant 
to procure for me a phial of Laudanum, to be- 
used at discretion. The Mack potion was 
ohtained 3 and carefully secured in my port- 
maiiteau. 

c Refreshments were served at an inn \ eat I 
could not, hut feeling a deep thirstiness, I swal- 
lowed from time to time, an egg, in some wine 
of France, mixed with water of the Ladaiianna. 

£ Our hardy Canadian driver took care of his 
long-haired pony ; and we soon proceeded on ■ 
our course upon the frozen waves of the river* 

i My young conductor perceived not the 
state of my feelings. He was one whom I had 
known and regarded ; and whenever he con- 
versed I listened with a sort of indescribable 
suspense. But during" long intervals of silence 
as we proceeded "slowly on : the ice,i 1 Tsat 1 oc- 
cupied entirely with such thoughts as 'but 
served to strengthen my -p-nFpose* 1 am weakj 



136 IDOMEN. 

I said; in my sou], .and may fall into utter des- 
pondency J — nay, if this deep mental suffering 
should continue, even reason may ere long 1 , 
forsake me .5 it is better to* be dead than a 
maniac. 

• .'All. day we glided on, as lonely as a little 
boat at- sea 3 and at night ascended the bank 
of the river, and stopped for rest at a village* 

* On the third day we reached the snow 
crowned fortress of Quebec. Arlington was 
lately married., : His companion, though gay, 
was deeply imbued with an admiration of belles 
lettres, and . seemed .pleased to receive me for 
her guest. ' 

6 The causae of my (illness was easily divin- 
ed by Marian ; she loved to watch the progress 
of the passion ; which had so consumed me 3 
and watched it with a feeling like those of po- 
ets when they read a tragedy. 

4 Marian was picruante, lively, shrewd, and 
teeming with wit, and . sarcasm 5. yet her man- 
ners r to me, were softened, to .a degree of res- 
pect and almost of tenderness. Perhaps some 
guardian spirit, acted on -her heart at that 
time, and secretly commissioned her to pre- 
serve me. 

* Arlington 5 s house was in one of the. broad- 
er streets within the gray walls of the lofty 
tower-flanked fortress, and to my surprise, 1 
was told that a- hotel nearly opposite was the 
temporary abode of him I loFed. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 137 

c To "be so near was. a deep satisfaction, "but 
the hand of despair had grasped my heart, and 
was cold there. 

1 Ethelwald, when apprised of my arrival, 
called upon Mrs. Arlington, and desired to see 

me. How lately could I have ilown to him ! 
But now trembling", exhausted, my lips, cheeks 
and hands, rough with the fever of my blood ? 
and the cold winds of the river, I went to 
the drawing-room to see him, once more, frdin, 
whom I thought soon to part forever. . 

* He took my weak hand in the manner of 
friends- in his country. His own hand, (mid 
winter though it was,) was warm, moist with 
a light perspiration, and whiter than the milk 
of the cocoa-nut, or petals of the fragrant mag- 
nolia. 

6 The touch of that hand, it seemed to me, 
was enough to make the dead awaken, and my 
heart, half petrified as it was, felt almost a 
thrill,- in return for it. 

c Aifirst my eyes were cast down ; I contras- 
ted the fullness of the happiness of himrbe- 
fore me, with the feelings that devoured my 
peace. 

i A sentiment of pride came over my heart. 
Friends, and fortune, I thought,, may desert 
me,— but at least, I have courage to die. Vain 
boast of a desolate soul I power even to seek 
the grave, is not given to every wretch, .who 
sighs for it. 
f6 



■- 138 IDOMEN. 

• ■'* The tone of the voice of Ethelwald, despite 
of every endeavor, very soon caused my lids 
to rise. I wished not to trust myself to look 
: at him 5 hut-, my eyes ? as soon as raised-, were 
riveted. 

* The most perfect health adorned his beau* 
tyj he seemed encircled by a vapour of soft- 
ness and of brilliancy ;j and his countenance 
was -so full of benevolence, that I fain would 
have knelt and wept before him* 

* But Marian 'Arlington was present, and he? 
voice turned -the current of my emotions.-— 
I saw her shrewd dark eye glancing" first 
upon me, and then on her other visitor.— 
I wished her to -leave the room, a moment,, but 
could not ask her,, and a strong sentiment of 
pride, restrained me while beneath her obser- 
vation 1 — pride in one who sought the grave! 
Alas ! what an enigma is every thinking mind 

Jbo itself! I During such intervals as that, d© 
I not unseen beings shed their influences.! 

"''The moment was past*' .Marian ran to the 
window, and said that a carriage was driving 
to the -door of the opposite hotel. • It con- 
tained a party that Ethelwald was to j oin. He 
' took leave . j but I could not, as I once had <done f 
find strength to follow bimto the door., 

'" After all," said Marian, when he was gone, 
* e of what value- is beauty in a man 1-— your fa- 
vorite,'/ am sure, -is vain, and you will make 
Mm more. so. No ! for him I am -determined 
you shall not distress yourself." 



THE CONFESSIONS. 139 

6 1 was' not in a state to answer* I retired 
to my loom near the saloon where we sat, 
"bathed my aching head in the waters- of the La- 
dauanna, and endeavored to gain strength for 
tlie day. 

& With great effort, I succeeded in dressing 
for dinner at five* Some friends of my hos- 
tess came in,, and the theatre was proposed. 
My faint refusal was not taken ; neither had 
I : energy enough to resist with, firmness.. , 

*At N- -t, Ethelwald had once spoken 

to me of his walks through the Louvre while 
at Paris. "With what pleasure/' he said s 
" could he lead, me to the statues and pic« 
lures which had most engaged his attention. 
I 'may, at least hope, 3 3 he continued, "that yon 
will walk with me, some day, round the fort- 
ress of Quebec, aud look with me at the pros- 
pect from its ramparts. 33 From these ramparts 
may be seen the last dwelling of civilized 'man, 
intervening in all the vast wilds: between: the 
castle of St. Louis and the brink of the arc- 
tic ocean. ( 22 ) • ' . • 

L We were, now, both in the same fortress ; 
f,ei the walks of "Ethelwald were taken with 
ojthers, and Idoinen was in the care of stran- 
gers ! 

6 The friends of Arlington were_ready in 
their attention-;- but after the -arm -which- had 
lately supported me,to-leaii-upon-aBOther--was 
like death. 



140 IDOMEW. 

€ In- the course of the theatric entertainment^ 
1 looked a 'moment towards the box of Lord 

D- ; e ? and saw him who had appeared to 

me like a deity, on earth, surrdunded-toy gay, 
trifling ladies, who kept him in continual con- 
versation. 

C -I dared not take another glance ; when re- 
turned I was too ill to sup, and retired to my 
pillow, reflecting on the next day's purpose, 

4 Alone in the darkness of the'night, and dis- 
turbed only by the sound of carriages, return- 
ing at intervals from scenes of festivity, I lay 
endeavoring to be calm, and. to silence those 
doubts which conscience continually present- 
ed. " 

i Words like these came to my. mind: — ■ 
what tie have I to the earth, save that only of 
my child 1 — him I cannot benefit, -even though 
I strive to remain. At best, I am weak f if I 
droop continually, at last, what shall I become ? 
a burthen, a burthen ? alas ! — even now, what 
am I elsel ■ If l-'live in misery like. this, -rea- 
son must ultimately forsake me. How terri- 
ble "for poor little Arvon, who has looked on me 
only as a being loving and beloved ! How very 
far more terrible to look upon a maniac ; — up- 
on one, perhaps, even loathsome, than to see 
me only in memory j: — (as he knew me, oh, my 
friend^ when you first took 'him on your knee ! ) 
children- are soon taught to bend their minds 
to new objects, Arvon 3 even now ? can bear my 



THE CONFESSIONS, 141 

absence, ; he has learned to like what is around 
him ; and if there he kindness, on earth,- he will 
find friends better than I ! . No ! no" !« he shall 
never see his mother an object for other feel- 
ings than those of love! 

4 Towards morning 1 1 slept from exhaustion ; 
at nine, I arose to breakfast .with Mariany and 
afterwards retired to : write.-. -■'■ 

6 My purpose had now become fixed 5 and de- 
spite of the night I had passed-,- my appearance,, 
though pale, was calm to those around me / but 
if the soul which now warms me- be eternal, 
the remembrance of that day, so calm to those 
around^ will continue to the latest eternity. 

6 1 first wrote separate letters to Arlington 
and to Marian, beseeching, for the sake of 
compassion, and as they valued their own.- -fu- 
turity, to conceal from my son the manner of 
my death. I then Wrote to Pharamond, told 
him that I was ill, and that! felt I should ne- 
ver see him more. ■ I . then recommended, lit- 
tle Aivon to his care, and besought him to pe~ 
titi on our uncle, Llewellyn Lloyde, in ;favoi i: iM 
my orphan boy, as soon as he should return t& 
the beautiful river, and find.- me no. longer -on 
earth. - -. 

" l To write these letters seemed a duty,, but 
it was a terrible . one,. I know not^wlat death 
I may die, .but mo greater pain, I.knLsure, np° 
on earth, can be suffered* To swallow the 
poison, when compared with it, was as a trifle. 



£42 k xdobsbk. < 

*I next Jboked over a small trank of papers'. 

From time to time they had been saved, whem 
My imagination was under the influence of a 
strong but vague hope that I c should, one day 
or other, be loved and renowned 5 and live loit- 
gei than my 'natural life,- in .the history of the 
country of my forefathers, and that where I 
first beheld the light. "No mortal, I said, shall 
smile 'at the fancies of lonely Women ! — and 
the- few long preserved papers were burned, at 
the same- taper, where I had just sealed,, with 
Hack, my letters of death,' ■ 
-. "Here Madame Burleigh shuddered, and 
again exclaimed : — 6 You - have bid me, my 
friend, speak truth to you, even as to God .!— 
I know not whyi ■but; what I felt in burning 
•these papers, in resigning this vague hope' — 
this indescribable illusion, caused me a pain 
even/ greater^ aM more- sickening than the 
certainty ^ ; of' leaving -life,; and my child./ Yet 
•love :; for ' BthelWaldwas stronger even than this 
hope or illusion, for it forced me to resign a 
flattering possibility which, from childhood, 
had mingled with my reveries. 
■ i At- five o'clock,- instead 'of appearing at 
dinner, I lay exhausted on my bed. Marian 
was kindness itself; she knew not what I had 
been doing, but imagined that I suffered be° 
-causer 'Ethelwald-had not come in the morning. 
With- her own hands she brought' me nourish- 
ment— -soup, light wafers, and jelly of the- beau- 



THE -CONFESSIONS. 14>U 

tiful apples of Montreal. In the evening she 
remained' at home, with some intimate friends 
of her selection; and came frequently to my 
loom. Perceiving that I slept not, she brought 

her companions to my bed-side, determined 
that my own regrets should be lost in the 
©harms of conversation. 

„ s Despite .of my heaviness of heart I perceived 
her delicate attentions, and felt for her, esteem 
and gratitude. ■ 

fi In the morning I breakfasted in bed. Ap» 
petite L had none, but I swallowed, to give me 
strength^ an uncooked egg and some jelly, and 
promised at five, to be present in the drawing 
loom. My earthly affairs seemed concluded^ 
and I strove to give to friendship the last day 
of my existence, in a world where it is often 
sought in vain* 

*When the day" was' nearly spent, I arose, 
©ailed forth all the strength that remained to 
me, bathed carefully, dressed myself in white 5 
and succeeded in braiding with my trembling 
hands,, the hair,, which your praises, oh, friend 
of my retreat, first taught me to value at P — d .; 
and whin Marion saw: me, she placed in it a 
few dark leaves of a laurel, cultivated in -alow* 
eiv apartment of her home. I had, once look- 
ed for laurels more lasting.' 

" Idomen, 55 I returned, " let thy hopes e©n§ 
tiaue! If heaven has planted, laurels ■. in thy 
Eeach, thou Last now 3 a friend, whose humble 



144? IDOMENo . 

power may, at least, help thee. to gather them ! 
She looked' at me an Instant, and proceeded : 

6 The saloon of Marion overlooked the street; 
there the family party had assembled before 
descending to the dining room. On entering, 
1 found them at the windows, and went to look 
with the rest. Ethelwald was walking down 
the snow-covered pavement, -together. with a 
young-- man ■ of exquisite beauty, though of a 
style entirely different from his own. The 
last was like" an animated statue of brown*- mar- 
ble j the first like a celestial visitant. 

6 The stranger was a Thespian of uncommon. 
personal endowments j within the walls of 
Quebec, good scenic representations were sel- 
dom enjoyed, and every lover of the elegant 
arts caressed and entertained the present vis- 
itor. 

; i Ethelwald looked up. toward our - windows 
with a smile, whichj to see, was worth a whole 
year of common happiness!, with a smile that 
should have^ healed and . cons61ed,.but- my heart 
was -closely ! grasped by the strong hard hand 
of despair.- ■'■',•' 'o «•/'' 

■ *Jk% table, remarks -were -made on/_|h1e two 
that had walked together j- on the favorite Thes- 
pian, and on him. who lately-had been favored 
by the governor or viceroy, of the provin-ce.— 
■^lother -guest came in at- the dessert, and ad- 
ded ^hat- ascertain lady of wealth and beauty 
was ewidently making endeavors to gain the 



THE CONFESSIONS. 145 

heart of Ethelwald. Toiler, and to 1 every one 
beside, it was a wonder that he had lived • so 
long lit quiet, on -the banks of his native river. 

*"I spoke not. a word on the subject j but I 
heard enough to determine me, even if t had 
mot before been resolved. 

■ e The' whole, party were again going to tie 
theatre, and -Marian would not leave me .at 
home. I"krioW;/iiOt wily it was, but I felt no 
reluctance in going, although shrinking as be- 
fore, from every arm that supported me. ' 

^'How potent, yet ho|w complicated L andjii~ 
definite, are the varying motives of the sour! 
,: to ourseWs how unaccountable ! to the world 
how utterly inexplicable ! 

i Tha taking of means not to see .another 
morning, had all day, absorbed every energy., 
Yet I spent at" the theatre, the eve of my med- 
itated death, and even the 'scene represented 
£§■ st Of impressed upon my^memof|^;p ' 
■' * H •'; ' - n, ; the ' Thesjpian visitor,; had cho- 
sen for Ms appearance, the part of Kotsebue'^ 
Holla, and the light dress of a Peruvian chief 
displayed to full advantage the grace and sym- 
metry of his figure. His 'Hair was wild and 
thick,, Ms eye"da?k an|d.pierciiig f '- A white 
tunic fell to the' knee, arid was confined lightly 
found the waist with a cinettife of gtilchdiiil 
serpent skin. ' A .small ! goldefi^ srafc^stepfilat" 
his breast^ and another on each ^hoiilder- ~- 
His fine neck was' tee 5 and hid itnl§h~eci1iinfes f 



146 IDOMEN. 

except their .bracelets, bore nothing* hut a thin- 
silken covering, which seemed, in closeness 
and colour, like the skin, of a warrior of Potosi. 

€ Ethelwald, I knew, .was present, and admi- 
ling also the fine form of the mimic Peruvian 5 
but 1 dared not look towards the place where 
lie sat, for- fear of a prying glaneefrpm the la- 
dy who 'would fain abridge his liberty. 

4 ^V"e retired, when. the tragedy was over, 
and at ten, 1, sat at the supper table, with Ar- 
lington and Marian, who said she thought me 
f ecovering, and that she hoped soon to see me 
lestored to spirits. /2b spirits, I -replied, I in- 
deed, hope- soon to, be restored ! Something 
whispered to my heart, at , that moment, s take 
teed lest those .spirits. .be evil. 5 

c At. eleven I -retired to my room, with the 
Intent to, do my last earthly deed. 

'.When-.carefully bathed in the waters of the 
liver I loved,, when my hair, was combed . and 
parted,, when I haclpat upon my feet, which I 
thought would never wander more, white slip- 
pers and; hose of Cuba, I folded about me a 
white morning .robe, just washed, by a laun- 
dress of Canada,- in the waters of the Ladaii- 
arnia*. May .my weary soul, I said, be wask° 
@d and made free from stain, even as I now 
endeavor tp, throw from this material form, 
©very particle of soil or pollution ! 

i To finish this last toilette^ now made for 
ay mother earthy I weal and looked sadly m 



THE CONFESSIONS. '147 

the mirror of -my- chamber.' ■ The expression 

of my. owe "eyes was too dreadful to be con- 
templated ; I turned away and shuddered. 
■ 'Papers and : a pencil were always kept near 
in my hours of solitude 5 J wrote and sealed a 
brief letter : to him whose visits once seemed 
to me -like those of a messenger from heaven 

£ It was now past 'midnight $ the' letters I had 
written were placed beneath the pillow of my 
feed ; and I held in my hand the same large 
phial 'filled with black juice of the poppy 
which had been procured -at Trots- Rivieres. 

4 All was ready. I heard a carriage stop at 
the opposite hotel, and found myself involun- 
tarily at the window. 

e A few dim lights were still burning, and as 
the door opened, I saw a figure, which-! knew 
to be Ethelwaldj and it appeared to me that 
lie turned and looked a moment towards my 
room. •' w '__•,'" 

i Three days have passed, 1 exclaimed, and 
he has" not come, though so near! Yet, even 
if he still regards me, how can i wish to be a- 
cloud to his brilliant days 1 « 

Q No ! I will die, while there is still a hope 
that he loves me ! — at this a thousand thoughts 
were poured like a flood into 'my soul. I re° 
membered' the scenes at N — : t*; ! con- 
trasted, the sweetness- of his breath — of ihe 
kiss which seemed '-so warni and true, with the 
black foetid' draught, which, even as I held it 'in 
g2 



.my. handj-jn^ sense shrank - from " iahaliiig. — 
The soft' mystic warmth which had seemed 
to l encircle his beauty, came to my mind in 
contrast • with the coldness of* my own hed of 
death. I returned from- the window^ knelt 
down by the pillow I had smoothed-,' and ear- 
nestly repeated this prayer to. heaven. 

e Creator of suns and of systems, thou who.-be- 
holdest thousands of worlds at a, glance, yet re- 
gardest the sparrow and her brood, father who. 
rarest for the pains of an insect, look down upom 
kef who implores tkee ! 

'~ ^If the death I seek be permitted., f>h, : take me 
ta some other stale of being a ' Purify me, m thou 
wilt, with suffering, but make me? at last \ no$ 
Unworthy.' 

4 If the deed I would do be a crime, deign to 
interpose thine omnipotence I 

, i Author of daily miracles, which seem, to the 
eyes of mortals, but the mere workings of nature, 
regard me at this crisis I Thou who canst on- 
ly punish to perfect, save me from too deeply of 
fending. If to swallow this poison be a 'deed 
beyond forgiveness, act secretly but surely upon 
the conduits^ of my blood? and withold its effect 
from the heart. I how lay bare to thee. 

1 Creator, thou who knowest me better than I 
have wisdom to know myself, if punishment be 
needful, give me strength to endure it. If I die 
%% sin, requite not that sin upon the innocent I 

1 Giver of life, protect thou my; child upon this 



THE CONFESSIONS, 149 

earthy and, when it be time, send him gently, beyond 
the bourne of mortality. 

i When these words were pronounced to the 
supreme director of men and more perfect an- 
gels, I swallowed the contents 'of the phial ; 
rinced. carefully- my mouth and hands, passed 
a handkerchief of white lawn over my head 
and beneath, my -chin,, (as if done to the new* 
ly expired,) and tied it closely near the tem- 
ple. I then lay gently down, held to my" nos- 
trils a handkerchief wet with water of the or= 
ange flower, and expected my last earthly 
sleep. 

& To my utter astonishment, no heaviness 01 
stupor came over me. . I lay perfectly at ease, 
wooing, as it were, the slumbers of death. — * 
But instead of the expected sleep, I felt a light 
pleasing sensation 5 my bed seemed as if rock* 
ed with a gentle motion j and thoughts cir- 
cled through my brain in a manner vaiue and 
confused, but pleasant in their nature and im- 
pression. 

<- I know not how long this delirium contin- 
ued, or whether I slept at all ;. hut when day* 
light appeared through the windows, I f^lt my- 
self still alive and sick, as at my first voyage 
on the -ocean* 

£ The wants and necessities of these forms 
of matter are more imperious. _while_on_ earth, 
than even the cravings of the -sou-L : '■ Till the 
hour for breakfast, I lay violently ill, and 

bB ■-■' -- 



150 ID'OMEN, 

could think of nothing else save preserving' -my 
bed and dress unsoiled from the Mack -pro-*"- 
fuse ejection. 

• ' At nine o'clock Marian caraein. My dress, 
my looks, and the odor of the draft I had swal^ 
lowed, told her, at once; what 'had '.been done. 
I asked her, as a friend, to- conceal the discov- 
ery she had made. Marian consented, but 
first, exacted from me* an . assurance that I 
had no more poison in my chamber. 

■ From the first, she had loved to watch the 
course .of my- feelings, subjected /entirely, as 
they were, to. the power of a passion, by eve- 
ry one spoken, of with pleasure ; by every 
modern person deemed romantic ;. to every 
heart known a little ; but felt, in its excess, by 
few, 

- - 4 The curiosity of her whose care saved my 
life,, was now, more excited than before ; and 
with feelings,- like those awakened by a trage- 
dy of Schiller, '.she left me sleepy from ex- 
haustion and flew to prepare restoratives. 

4 In. the course of that very morning -came 
Ethelwaldj— had'I died he would have been 
called, to look upon me !— he was told that I 
lay slightly indisposed .; and another evening- 
had come, ; ere Marian let me know of his -visit. 
Exhausted as I was, a lively regret took pos- 
session of my soul j for, had I known he was 
beneath the .roof, I would have seen him, even 
as. I lay, and told to him the cause of ray suf- 
fering. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 151 

' 'But destiny had differently ordained \ and 
Marian, perhaps, while her kindness saved 
me from death — (for even the effect of the 
poison must have killed without her care and 
gentleness 5)-— Marian, perhaps, was commis» 
sioned to separate my days from those of him 
1 loved, even as darkness at the- beginning of 
the world, was separated from light and ani- 
mation* 

6 Carefully nursed and nourished, in three 
days I was able to rise? but the vivid regret I 
had felt, at not seeing once more, when he 
came, the bright being, whose estrangement 
made life insupportable, was succeeded by a 
despair more dull and heavy than before. 5 

"It is little," said Dalcour, 44 to read or tell 
the story of a stranger $ yet- even- -that some- 
times agitates and 'disturbs'; /and we cannot 
speak minutely, of sufferings .endured by our- 
' selves, without strong andfatiguing? emotion. 
Idomen- wished to continue, but I saw that her 
strength was^ overtasked. - At the i hour-; of the 
passeo^l knew: that two friends -were; expected 
from Mat'anza-s, and I left her to spare her spi- 
rits, and to •emerge from the past to the pre» 
sent, 

■ " The sun was high and powerful, but the 
way to. my woods .was not long.- -I mounted 
my creolian pony,.' languid with ;the hottest 
hours of day, and, resting. on Ms saddle the 
staff of my green silken umbrella., I proceed^ ■ 



152 1D(*K8». 

ed ? half concealed in its deep j con.ca?e? toward® 
the shady groves of my dwelling. 

"Benito followed, bearing my change of 
dress on 'a little horse, brought to light near 
the palm-*eovered cottage of his' .mother. A 
palm "leaf hat of 'his own weaving, covered his 
woolly locks. Large ■ drops of oozing mois^ 
ture ran down his Mack, glossy -forehead, 
made cool by the profuse evaporation. 'The 
careless, happy negro Was humming extern- 
poral airs, and never' thought once of the sun. 

u The edges of the heart-leavedWonvolvulus 
(or: morning-glory)^ were beginiiing to roll in* 
waids,even in my 'shady' pathway. It was 
the hour for; refreshment and- repose « 1 re^ 
tired: to toy vine woven ; chaittber^ -and as soon 
as its shade had cooled nte^ I bathed me with 
sponges, of the river, 'and put on fresh linen 
for : my lonely repast and-siestsb 

" A " soup s enriched ^ with nutritious . roofs 
from my garden, was Boiled at my fire every 
day, 'and, -gent, When I had tasted, to the w©« 
men with young children in my hospital to be 
shared with any who were sick. This, with a 
speckled guinea fowl, and a heart of fresh eurds 
laid on rose leaves, were my simple but luxu* 
sious banquet. 

46 Fig+bananas and fmgmtti^gm^yavms ware 
presented, on fresh, green leaves, and get be^ 
fore me, -at the dessert, with a- v-me of such 
flowers as I ImedC , I eat long, alone at tmble s 
musing on Idomen and her story* 



THE CONFESSIONS, 153 

"The powers she possessed of feeling both 
Ijjleasuxe and pain, were, as it seemed to me, 
tut proofs of the depth of her genius 5 for who 
©an describe or conceive of that which he ne- 
ver' has felt ? Amid so many griefs and tran* 
sitions, it seemed to me a subject for wonder, 
that her reason, ever active and reflecting, -Mad 
Hot been even more disordered than the truth 
of her narrative had proved it. 

" Her present healthful appearance, though 
absent, and still loving Ethelwald, gave assu- 
rance of her mind's elasticity. Her fancy was 
evidently feasting on some vague hope of see* 
Ing him again.. ■ Her passion 1 deemed an il- 
lusion, happy as she had described him, and 
surrounded by gay ? friendly circles ; it was 
not probable that one so admired, "at -his home, 
Would appreciate the character of Idomen, at 
a distance, or prove for her the love : of a sto- 
ried Inighfcerrant or troubadour. 

"Yet his reign over her warm imagination 
was still undiminished and entire | ;andforthat 
I felt & secret satisfaction, as it guarded her 
heart from new 'attachments* 

" I knew the full strength- of gratitude in a 
soul like hers whom I admired, and resolved 
to become her protector, m-aay-wayicomport- 
ing with her wishes* ■■■■••■•.-•;■: - ■--■ 

" 1 would favor hensultivatiott-of- the muses, 
and take her to polished Europe, when; at last 
she might wish to study there* Ethelwaldy 1" 



. 154" IDOMEN. 

doubted, not 3 would .yield., to the attractions 
of some fair .[daughter of Britain .—-while 
reason, friendship, gratitude, the welfare of 
her childw and, what is so strong; in an artist, the 
hope of success in her art,— every inducement 
would conspire to obtain for me, even the hand 
of Idomen, if necessary to her safety or to her 
honor./ . . ._ 

" Benito slung my colored hammock of Ota- 
heite, and I took my siesta in the woods. No 
nauseous, worm or reptile is found either in 
the fruits. or among the thick leaves of Cuba. 
The pretty lizard, so entirely. -f earless of man ® 
I loved always to contemplate, and welcomed 
his delicate eyes, whenever he approached 
my solitude. 

. "At sunset,,! went with. Benito, to where 
the branches of the night flowering cereus had 
clasped, themselves like serpents,, around fall- 
en trunks of palmetto. A curious fruit is 
sometimes found on these plants, shaped'' -like 
a. tapering pear, and covered with prickles 
like the leafless stem, that it. grows upon.-— 
Chance smiled upon, our search, for .we found 
two of these rare luscious apples, or pulpy cov- 
erings of seed. As I saw them closely swell- 

*' The tameness of the small lizard is a surprising cir- 
cumstance; it seems to put entire confidence in human 
beingsy -and -never moves when they approach, .unless 

driven by- .. violence. Its- eyes are very beautiful, and 
-seem to express wisdom or Uioughtfalness. 



THE CONFESSIONS, 155 

ing, near the serpentine branch that bore them'j 
I could but think -of- the fruit presented by the 
invader of paradise. 

" But one, far unlike a destroyer, now sought 

them, for her, whom he wished to adorn his 
paradise. Benito, as he stood, wove a basket 
of leaves, and I placed the rare fruit that had 
crowned my search, in -my cabinet of porce* 

lain, till morning. 

" At ten, the nest day, I found Madame Bur- 
leigh in expectancy. I gave .flowers for" her 
boudoir; but reserved the fruit of the. night 
blooming cereus to change the current of 
her thoughts when perturbed by the scenes 
she depicted, 

c A few brief incidents/ said I domen, £ will 
finish, oh! my friend, the gloom of .my many 
adventures, and reveal the whole past life of 
her whose heart is laid bare to thee ! 

s Again I had ' strength to go through the 
routine of the day ; but half that .day was 
spent in lassitude on the sofa. 

4 Light soups and jellies, presented by the 
hand of Marian, with the charm of her con- 
versation, preserved the little life I still re* 
iained. The presence of this friendly com- 
panion, had in it, 1 knew not what of anima- 
tion and influence $ yet the faint joy it impart- 
ed was only as' the light of a passing -taper, 
flashing at intervals through the iron, grated 
aperture of the dungeon 3 in which my soul sat 
g5 



156 IB0MEN. 

imprisoned/ The gloom that hung over me, 

became deeper and deeper j .• and I doubted 
the care of heaven, thoug-h so lately preserved 
froinsdettth r ';: v.;. ,.-.■■_ 

.' Mo ! I secretly exclaimed, if. lieaven had 
preserved, . heaven would comfort ! ' 

4 -Even- Marian, I know well, .(while her lips 
amuse me 'with gentle . words,' and her hand^ 
present me with sustenance,) is-reading* the 
tablets of my mind, like some story, half real 
and half imaginary. As I become weaker she 
will be weary ; — but 'no !■ I will - retire in time. 
Iwas now "able to walk out. An elderly 

lady who had come from K 1, brought me 

a letter penned with the infantine hand of my 
dear afesenjt " little-' Arvom Every thought of 
horror returned | and . 1 .: feared that I .might 
live'to give him pain. 1 

'■The bearer of Arvon*s letter was -going out 
to buy riband s^and ^artificial flowers for the toi- 
let of her village daughters, and desired me 
to -bear her company, and taste the fresh air to 
my own benefit^"""! went .'with her to choose 
these • little adornments . of . festivity j passed 
froni-door to : -door, ! and Stopped at the rooms 
of an apothecary, .■ 

■ .Candies prepared' with healing .'herbs for 
the- colds of winter, were purchased £oe Arvon 
and her.-children. . I' spoke of' the noise made 
by vermin in the night, ; and said I would give 
tier arsenic to destroy ■ the disturbers of her 
sleep, A youth, when asked, produced some j 



THE CONFESSIONS. 15?f 

but said- that much caution was needful when 
arsenic was -used in a family. - 

6 How much, I said, would destroy a human 
being 1 — ' two grains' returned the young man, 

i would occasion the death of the strongest 
soldier in this garrison.' I bought what might 
fill a large shell of a walnut of England ; kept 
half myself and gave the other half ;'to-my com- 
panion who, I knew, would leave Quebec very 
soon, and could not return again to the parlor 
of Arlington, She left me at ray door, and 
went farther* ; 

4 1 returned to-- my room to dress for dinner,, 
and laid aside the deadly purchase. Little 
was now to be done, the letters of death I had 
written were still bj me, and -sealed. A: few 
more, words on their envelop was sufficient,—- 
The same vestments ©f white which had wrap-. 
ped me for a dreadful purpose had again been 
freshly washed in the waves of the Ladau- ' 
anna. : 

i Beautiful name of .a beautiful river, my lips 
even at that dismal hour, took almost a, pleas- 
ure in speaking thee ; and my chilled heart, 
even then ? could frame good wishes for the 
forest chief # who first had pronounced its 
.voweled syllables* 

4 St. Lawrence, if indeed thy spirit-can watch 
near the noble stream, baptized with thy name 

* Nicolas Vincent Zauanaui, ft Catholic Indian 'Cfrie. . 



158 IDOMEN* 

by thine .adorers, pity and protect 'the wild 
children- of the woods, who still cross its waves 
in their- canoes -of bark, who still border their 
moccasins with the hair of the elk, and trans- 
fix with their arrows, the wild speckled phea- 
sant, and the? ptarmigan, white as ; . thy shows. 
■ . ' ' Again I was taken with the family party to 
the theatre 5 but Ethelwald was not there.— 
Once,. since my baffled attempt, I had seen liim, 
but the* spirits which, were wont to rush forth 
in joy, at his presence, had* forsaken, me'; nei- 
ther did Marian forbear her watching, for one 
moment. . The wish still remained -of confess- 
ing to him all I ' had .felt ;--but the power for 
such a confession was denied me. 

'.Again I saw the mimic Peruvian, but the 
picturesque scene. was now lost on me. Again 
I sat at the supper table, but could not smile 
with the rest. . 

' Requesting some sweetmeats for a sore- 
ness of the ..throat, I retired to my room as 
soon as was consistent with courtesy. 

* Letters of i^eath were again. placed, dnder 
my pillow; Ibatned myself once- more in 'the 
waters of the. river I loved, and wet a -white 
kerchief of Cuba, in perfume of orange flowers, 
which had blossomed there. Again .1 breath- 
ed to Heaven, the same prayer ,■ my friend, 
which I have : repeated to thee ; but it was 
breathed with less of fervor and more of hea-= 
vihess than before. 



THE CONFESSIONS. 159 

6 At last, after pausing a -moment, I chose 
from the sweetmeats sent to my room by Ma- 
rian, a wild plumb of Canada, and mixed with 
it as much arsenic as the quantity, of its own 
stone , and pulp. The whole was swallowed, 
I rinced, carefully, my throat, teeth and lips ; 
tiefe white handkerchief beneath my chin, and 
lay.:dawn once more, t© my doom, unless hea- 
ven should avert it, . • 

s A; heavy sleep came over me, together 
•with a dull impression that I was now, tempt- 
ing and offending a Deity who had lately in- 
terposed. 

i How entirely dependent are mortals ! Men 
ha Ye ; boasted of,; at. least, the power to die. ; . . 
but even that power they possess not. Some 
higher., hand must concur,, before even death 
can be obtained, by any wretch, who would 
rush to an unknown state, to escape from the 
torments of this world. The ..sufferer may 
compiain, of. destiny,. and strike. his own heart 
in impatience 5 but heaven alone can vouchsafe 
to, him, the. eternal .stillness of the tomb! • 

6 In the morning I.agaln awoke, .not in world 
of;spirits 3 , but on ea#h, and deathly sick. My 
offended vitals spurned and flung the heavy 
mineral, with an effort more painful and vio- 
lent than was caused by the juice of ;the poppy, 

£ Marianj.at the hour of breakfast, came to 
my room, and sent for a young physician^ her 
relative, who staid" by me till the poison was 



ejected ,"■ f Wh^fi ; riay- More : at%ase,-they both 
endeavored to act upon my fears, -but spoke 
loss- of a future existence than of. ingratitude, 
dishonor, and defacement - of my form while 
on earth. Concealment of what I had done 
was only obtained by promising that 1 would 
' make- no farther attempt to leave this ; world. - 
For the term of three' months. 1 -gave a -'prom- 
ise j arid fearing to distress me, they did iiot 
exact one forever. 

' Q Three days -I lay ill, in- bed ? thinking- -that 
the poisbn might still- destroy,' though in -a 
manner less easythan I had hoped for. - Mari- 
an was constant in her attentions 5 -she brought 
me such nourishment -as could be- -taken with- 
out efijbrt, she sang,, -.conversed, read, and em- 
ployed -every pleasing art to amuse and be- 
gulfome/of : sun t er^g.s :;: " ■■■'[ ' 

* Her caresj Iter conversation, the charms of 
her miridj'-wfere.-a balm, perhaps, sent "by hea- 
ven, to- liea! 1 and restore me to the path inten- 
ded for my treading. 

4 In- four jd'ays I could rise again-; but a -light 
eruption, the^ffect,- perhaps, of 'the mineral I 
-had swallowed, was spreading itself -.oWr the 1 
whole surface of my form. . :Of'this-my'physi* 
«eian-In kind wisdom availed himself. ' " Your 
system," 'he said, a is- peculiar, ;no poison that 
you can pfoeure -will~give you death j^you 
have -twice tried the experiment 5 but disease 
may be easily induced 5 ■■and even aow s -yoii 
are fortunate in ese aping defacement* f? 



THE CONFESSIONS. 16J 

^ How - inexplicable are. the changes of .our 
hearts j and- how necessary to mortals is the 
sympathy of earthly cotemporaries !: The 

confidence' of two persons who kept my secret,, 
produced upon my soul a stronger effect than 
die' utmost of her. own reasoning powers . 

£ Thus, often, some slight external -succor,. 
restores, action to the; palsied energies which 
have: baffled every inward exertion, 

'. I -had promised to live, and my pain, however 
keen, must be endured; •• The mere eireum- 
stance of liamng.s^promise to keep, acted as a 
support, and urged and intpelled to effort. 

. s Rumors continued. to -float: around, that a 
fair: lady, with a fair fortune^ was still ardent 
in her, attempts, on the heart of him-who:- seem- 
ed to- me like -Phce'bus. 

i I knew that if" I lingered in- Quebec? I must 
sometimes meet in. public, both the idol and 
the nymph. that would enchant him* The fa- 
ta! packet sent from N- — 1 had; in every 

worldly sense, exonerated Ethelwald from; far- 
ther, regard for her. who folded it. 

6 1 looked upon myself, changed,' emaeiatedj, 
escaped, as by a miracle, from deathy and con- 
trasted the joyous presence of' him I lov©d ? 
with my own sadness .and dejection. 

& 1 could not bear, the* thought that mere ^pi- 
ty should ever take the place of that, tender. 
aad impassioned attachment which, however 
evanescent, had existed. 
g6 



. 16& 1D0MENT. , ■ 

■ - The time still -was short :ssMe#^thdwald 
-had crossed^' to see ; me-j^tkfev^S^i^^iiff^M 
storms,* "but, to me, it had seemed an age of 
suffering. "1/ -would not, raottythat ;he^mpuld' 
look upon me j I even would avoid a -meeting 
with him df^whom -the mere ■ sightwafeiliayenv 

4 te=the -midst of -these revolving emottions, 
a r letter -arrivedfrom the pine-grove?of W*m±-%, 
and I resolved to return to: my child. 7v : ; 

'■'■ The same young' relation who had brought 
me;*© Quebec;, took me' back to the wild lonely 
Tillage where my happiest moments had been 
passed. ■ ' ■■;■ 

* Wrapped closely' from the air, I endured 
the- first hours ;of our journey 5 breathing ma- 
ny a secret prayer to heaven, and during long 
intervals of silence, binding up, as it were, my 
disordered thoughts; into ■■ verses. 

4 The month' of March was begun ; the ex- 
cess of cold = had dimini shed ) but the "beautiful 
river- was'"'Still> frozen and hard as a rock of 
crystal • - s ^\ ' ' , 

c By degrees;/! "was attracted by the scene. 
Lthrew^back: my : close, furry hood,' and per- 
ceivedthat .1 once more could look around and 
breathe the free air without danger. 

6 Waves, rocksj trees. and mountains, buried 
and -'-fleeced- -with snow, assumed- forms the 
most fantastic . 

6 A path on the river before us, was marked 
out hy dark boughs of evergreen, set up by 



THE CONFESSION'S. 163 

■friendly hands in- the snow, to 'direct the lone- 
ly traveller. ( 23 ) Our little rough-haired horse 
of the; country was driven by ;a:faithfuLsing!ng 
.Canadian,- and our cariole skimmed like some 
bird of winter, over a vast expanse of white- 
ness, or as it were, through a wilderness of 
brilliancy. 

6 We rode low upon the river, but - aafwe 
passed its banks, huge snow-drifts, at inter- 
vals,, seemed rising even to the heavens. Ev- 
ery thing sparkled in the sun ; the winds were 
hushed 5 the sky was blue above us $ and look- 
ed as serene as the countenance of him- 1 fled 
from beholding. Spring, though distant, was 
preparing to approach; I respired the pure 
breath of the desert, and my soul caught re- 
turning animation.. 

6 1 felt the movement of a pleasure whose 
organs had long been inactive?: it rushed 
through my soul like something new, and the 
palsied sense was resuscitated. Beautiful na- 
ture, how darkly involved is the heart when ■ 
its pains counteract .thine influence ! 

6 These feelings continued but a moment ; 
yet they left, a refreshment behind -them, and 
the poignancy of reflection was softened as 
we rode one day longer upon the frozen La- 
dauttnna-. - " ~ - -. "\~ 

£ To persons who deserved 'iny^ gratitude, I 
had promised to live three months | aid no 
-promise once given to any mortal by Idomen,, 
3iad ever, in her life, been broken. 



1'8I? hhwben;- - 

. & lh three months more the waves would 
again be unlocked 5 'and a hope now began to 
dawn 'that my heart again might be healed. 

'.Ere the term of niy promise- could expire* 

the vast rocks of ice would be riven, and I 

shou-ld f view. ihe' magnificent spectacle of the 
river regaining his liberty. , In three months 
more his waters would, flow on in, .peace, and 
beauty., and then — if heaven willed me not on 
earth, and my wtetchedness'-still ■ should con- 
tinuejisIiC ;!p^#ifi■Bitoej*^il^flMgJ^place .from -.the 
world in. the depth of his pure sweet bosom | 
and be hidden alike and forever, from the eyes 
both 'of ;;pity:'and-.Bfwueity. .Thus whisper- 
ed my still sickly fancy, but a cure was begun 
in my souL... ' 

i in thernorning we crossed the great rwe^ 
and rode over; the ^slightly yielding snow, till 
the tall fanes, of :tlie. seminary -. see died beckon- 
ing our approach- to N t; 

';:■■* A:s theelbcfepf the seminary struck twelve^ 
the, kind inmate x s of. my former dwelling-came 
rushing tjo ..the/door to receive; me. Each in 
turn-expressedr:: a-soi®ow;that iny^ealthVwas 
not yet-recovered, bat said that my eyes, looked 
better than when I. had left them for Quebec. 
O hope! .how the first faint gleam of thy twi- 
light"; has power to change the ' countenance 
of a mortal, so fallen in the 'night, of -'des- 
pair t ^ - 

^.Notice wdssentto the seminary, and lit- 



'THE CONFESSIONS. ' , 1'63> 

tie Arvon'flewio embrace me.' ' He-6ai& it: wag 
the cold that made, me sick, bus; now, spring 
was coming, I would be well again^ ' 

4 My young conductor remained but a day^ 
and departed, followed by my blessings. — ■ 
Would to heaven I' could essentially befriend 
Mm, and every other- being, who bas done to 
me' the slightest deed of kindness. • 

i I feared a recurrence of pain, and avoids ci 
the temptations of solitude. I walked daily with 
Arvbn on the snow, or sat in-theK^&'iofethe 
family and neighbors^ preparingi'Ms^Mnen iof 
the summer.:: Employment is sweet when bti- 
: &y for ; those "Whoiii we love, ; 
. & The; gentle Elmire came again from Trdis 
Rivieres. She spoke often of Eth-elwald, and 
repeated: what he had said, at the:balt^wbkbef 
1 had seen her depart, with braided hfemncl 
dressed &■ azure. 'A- vague -possibility that| 
•at length, he; might come "-to ^see^kf- on]eef;ffliOr4 
the friend he had loved to- visits soon entered. 
my heart with her accents, and assisted inre° 
storing- me to healths Every thing • around 
<m@ had ; been ^hallowed 1 by his ■ :-toucfaif : ";ff t&* 
•sence ; a glimmer of hope was blended with 
pleasing remembrance, and conspired to make 
the- long day supportable. r::~^J:lM:£: : l-l 

£ .JBut lately I had- shrunk hom y my---miwm r 
■afid said in the lang4iag-e^of-the-passiQhat,e--i>ard 
*-— £ my beauty condumeth away ■; — -my heart is 
Smitten' and- withered ;' but now- .the- dolor 



16:6 ?*;, 1D0M-EN. 

seemed fain to. spread itself again on my% 
■■ cheeks,; *and iroundness .was', returning: to the 
arm s which had nothing to embrace- but little 
Arvo'n. : 

4 It is hitter to look forward to life, when 
despoiled of an illusion of felicity, yet now, I 
could resolve to hear the prospect and endea- 
vor, at least, to he worthy of the idol to whom 
I should have fallen in sacrifice, «ave only for 
the hand of heaven. 

6 Meantime, the rivers burst, roaring from 
their imprisonment, and vast masses of ice 
were, heaped 1 like mountains on their shores. — 
The murmuring boughs r of the forest, had 
cast off their cold ; incrustations \ the skies 
were clear and blue ; the early birds of spring 
were returning f and the snow fast dissolving, 
near the earth, paid a thousand, thousand trib- 
utes, Jo the thousand rivers and rivulets now 
■hastening, to their giant sovereign, the mag- 
nificent Ladauanna, 

& The: sweetness of breezes through forests ; 
the rushing ofr_qver-swollen waves ; the raptur- 
ous cries, of Jbjbds j the dropping -of:- 'waters 
from houghs -and housetops j all mingled their 
melodies with the songs of the ever tuneful 
peasants of this country of streams and cas* 
cades". 

.•' My heart still smarted with its. recent 
wounds ; but a flood of gratitude seemed pour- 
eel warmly over -it j and thanks burst forth t# 



THE CONFESSIONS. 16? 

heaven- that I Had still sensation for the pres- 
ent, '''••'■■ 

£ The large suffocating stove was now .moved 
from the hall of oar dwelling- • fragrant branch- 
es from the forest took their place upon the 
large cheerful hearth 5 and while they crack- 
led into flame, the neighboring children would 
often assemble and sing there, the' boat-songs 
of their 'fathers. 

& No walks could be taken save on snow- 
shoes like an oval sieve, made by the savages 
of doe-skin cut into threads, and woven or 
knotted like net-work. Binding closely to the 
souls of our feet, these light far-spreading san- 
dals, I walked daily withArvon, on. the banks 
of the river of the village. 

£ Letters from Pharamond had arrived, at a 
warmer port, distant from Quebec :j and reach- 
ed 11s by coming far over the still isnow- cov- 
ered country. ' •' '• 

i M.j cousin arrived at Quebec as soon as 
the ice had departed. The three months of 
my promise had nearly expired. It was now, 
the month of June, and relief had cemeSf-my. 
soul, like cool halm to the temples of the. sick 
of- a fever.. ' - ^ - ■■ ■ 

4 1 could but regard this relief as,- ^signfrona 
heaven to encourage me to remain^ on^eartlu 
Yet in all concerning powers invisible, 'the. mini 
is sometimes shaken with doubts ; andit .constant- 
ly asks itself the question : Does heavgiigia- 



$fig IDOMEN- ; 

4eed* commune ,'with me in secret., or is it but, 
a fond dream of fancy 1 • r 

.' 4 I could not trust myself entirely ° . I dared 
aot return to Quebec,' for I shudder ed at the 
thoughts ;of a renewal of the terrible tempt a- 

flops whicjb- had passed. . I . ( ■ 

; ']^^^^^b^^[^ froteetingg. ',mhieir : ; .1 
£&m would, obey" in .gratitude, was. not the new 
energy which sustained and gave- wisdom to 
w#lkw^|h caution, a breath;' $xbm 'the. infuser 

s l|hen ; Iharamondj .; at lenglh, found, time. 
t^WV^^^^'^t^^' — -^^-^f loiters; had; .ar-, 
Ae?ifrOni. : :OuSa^ rejaf ing; ,tlie, .sudden .death of 
Lewellyiij my, uncle, and so' .lately my friend. 

c Tears, streamed from ;niy eye?v which ■> but 
%ree, 'months' before, were tearless j he who 
iad parted with me half in an^er, was now, n# 
longer upon tearth. My mourning .dress .for 
poor Suriei^'had;: not yet been, entirely laid 
aside. My friend next in, affinity, was. no w, mo 
mpre, anfji fieA'; weeds of black declared the 
renewal of sorrow, . 

'.-"Worldly. Concerns, for. a whi)e ? wem bait° 
fefaed-by.' 'grief fpr-the deceased;, but when 
.Siaramond had left me again? they returned 
sssd '.pressed '.upon my thoughts* 

s\ippl|es : would : soon be - exhausted ? iia= 
less. the once kind ■Llewellyn! had thought of 
ike before lie left this world,, ' I felt that, say 
4jUy.as.a-&0theT> must be. setjaboye all -selfish 



: ' THE CONFESSIONS'* 16§ 

wishes. I thought of' Arvon, and, for a mo- 
ment, regretted that I had not given myself 
in sacrifice to the wishes of my uncle, now no 
more j a union -of interest would have secured 

independence to myself and to my orphan,, 
with the power of benefiting other's; but the 
'deep 'reluctance I had felt, had been seconded 
by fears and scruples, lest truth and hono? 
might be violated. 

4 To Fharamond I shrank from obligation 5 
o^cgjindeed, be had expressed for me the warm- 
est regard. He saw me, when almost a cfaild ? 
married, and obedient to the slightest wish of 
my protector. £ Idoinen, 5 he then said to me 9 
i could I find another like yourself, — hut yon 
are estranged fey marriage ; and even if -yoni 
were hot, the relationship between us would, 
be an invincible barrier. What choice have I, 
then, but '-to- devote myself to fortune and . to 
celibacy -T ! 'My eo sin, iince that period,' had 
seen a woman that pleased him, Wedded; and 
lost her, and now,- 'was again entirely devoted 
to commerce' arid : to worldly acquisition. 

'■I' resolved' to return to : €aba j my only -re-' 
latum' there, was dead j but all sgecies of "fear 
for myself had fed with the brilliant ;exce : ss of 
th e happin ess which '-late :: had? -bewriiif ii^niev 
My- little fair-eyed ~ Arvon; who" wgul"d"pfofect 
his minority; educate bim,~andr prepare Him 
{m the world % I thought of the planter -who 
■feed wept when I left him at 'Cuba, and warmly 

H 



170 IDOMEN. 

solicited My : return. . He '■ migh^ extend to my . 
child his support and affection, j That mortals 
are ; changeable, I-h^d^&^^^Q:^n^^ti^^WPU-y 
but I thought of my escape frbm Jdeath,; and". 

trusted in the power that. protected me. ^ 
' i The., timid doe that finds her shelter in the 
forest,: afar from the low white] dwelttidg$ : ^at'. 
overlook, the Ladaiianna, will brave danger in 
defence of her young ; the delicate do?e of Cu- 
ba will struggle and flutter m defence of the 
inmates of her- nest .; but even the lioness of 
Africa. is weak when beset with perils. 

'Meantime, the short glow jag summer of 
Canada, was accomplishing the term of its in- 
tensity. - The snows of: eight, returning moons 
had enriched the earth with thefr deposites, and 
she, now, in her gratitude, '■ became prodigal 
of fruits and ,■ flowers. Flowers of a darker 
dye, or fruits' of more luscio.ujs flavor, regale 
mot our senses, oh, my friend, even in the leafy 
retreats of this .island beloved of the sun ! 

.. VThe;viplets^of the.; gar dens of. the priests,, 
were tingedWrth purple like: j the mountains, 
when- seen iri autumn from the gray stony 
ramparts ' of Quebec. The roses of Persia, 
with theirs would; be rivalled in sweetness.— 
The. robes of the ancient kings! of Tyre, or the 
shells upon: the beaches aroim|d .'us,. could not, 
if /compared, outvie the velvet purple of "their 
hearts-ease. 

4 . Their full clusters of grapes were ripening 



THE CONFESSIONS* ' 171 

to jet and to amber, • Their currants pr"cer-- 
iaths ? hung in clusters of alternate topaz and 
ruby. Melting raspberries of black, red and 
■white, lined the walls of their enclosure ;•' and 
a small, curious melon lay roughly on the dark 
prolific soil, yet scarcely yielded, in taste or 
fragrance, to the anana with its golden em- 
bossment, enclosed in its green folded cower- 
ing, from the sun, whose near beams hare made 
it mellow. ■ . . ' 

' So sweet was the brief produce of these, 
gardens, long buried in snow, which bloom 
beneath the care of a seminary of priests on a 
tributary stream of the St. Lawrence. 
' 6 Agitated as ' Md been' my own bosom, i 
could not look without emotion on the tran- 
quil and innocent lives of the men who adorn- 
ed these retreats. Here, sheltered from the 
world, and, as it were ? even from themselres, 
they folio wed: not -the,beckonings of hope, and 
were strangers to fear and inquietude. 

£ The depths of their hearts I could not see 9 
or what; springs' of --passion were concealed 
there, but their lips breathed humanity and 
kindness. . 

u, * To priests I entrusted my son, and the mo- 
ther and' the orphan were respected. With 
priests., I walked in ihese fair gardens, which, 
feut lately had. formed the base of snow-drifts f 
and beheld glowing : fruits upon the branches 
that, when 1 first looked upon the silvery spi?e 
h2 



. If ^ • .Ii»MEN» 

of .the -chapel near them, were sparkling with 
' icy incrustations* The feelings of ages had 
: passed since that time, through my bosom, 
■ and; still' were retained by memory. 
• ; : ,: ^C'h© -superior of the- -seminary of -the -fine 
grOFe.faad taken up earth every summer, while 
.-endured-- the few .moments of his recreation ; 
.and every' summer., with hands .washed for sa- 
cred offices, had" formed -one step of -a circular 
mound, and covered it with sods of "sweet 
grass. When, on the' seventh 1 fear ^ .the, .green, 
fragrant base of '-.seven steps wa-s completed, 
there was placed -on it a column woven into 
^hape with wicker ; and other years still must 
'elapse ere. the. newly planted vines : could eri- 
.twine it. ■• . '.■..■..-.-••■: 

V Such,"- said the peaceful architect "is the 
■.; fragile nature of • men's labors. The ancient 
-pyramids of the - Nile, though 'rtheir- projectors 
have been for ages forgotten, lare less perma- 
nent to the eyes- of the Eternal than "this col- 
umn' to the youth of.N — ■ — M'." - \ 

6 The notMnipess of this life,-for,a.momera, 
was fully predated to -my- intellect ; and- 1 con- 
ceived of the '"sentiments of those, who iit-dif-. 
-rfereat ; ages of the world,, have retired to com- 
fflu»e;withthe future, and -calmly wait, a pas° 
sage to eternity. (24) 

. _ "*"In this harmless community of- men, with- 
out earthly hope, I could have placed my op» 
giiaii boy, to pass his clays unrufHed by those 



THE COWF-ESSIONS* 173 

-pains which encircle fame, .fortune and plea? 

sure. I could .even myself have' entered the 
oonvent -at 3>o^ Rivieres, and listened as long 
as I livedo to the waves of the Ladauanna.— 
But the thought -crossed- my mind as a shad- 
■«w, not as .a reality to be followed. 

'* Many have said that- 4 the will of -mortals is 
their destiny f. .and in many a crisis of -mortal 
life, ■. the -saying -may seem to-be truth f hat 
whence comes the energy which urges our 
will to fruition 5 ox the circumstance that makes 
it inevitable % 

4 The summer so brief and beautiful was 
iii©re than- half passed away; and before the 
latum of the snows of autumn, again I must 
.fee upon the ocean* 

1 Before I could again embark for this island 
©f flowers and forgetftilness, six" hundred -En- 
glish miles must be traversed by land, by lake, 
and 'hj riyer. Pharamond'" iiad -made arrange- 
ments for my journey, and dear little Arvon 
was appeased by-my- promise to send for Mm, 
wherever I might- ; stay* 

£ Tbe-'$weet August of -Canada. 'was almost 
'passed. when my eousin appeared, once-more^ 
<m,tthe village of the moments ©f my happiness* 
■The parting with Arvon and -my '.kind .inmates 
was over ; and we glided," once more,Tn a ba£- 
. teau. The beautiful Ladaiiannaiwas warm and 
.smooth' as a mirror ; the songs of "the boatmen 
ivgi'-g low i ead at intervals they -dipped thei? 
hS 



fli'4t -idomew. 

- oars in silence, save the warblings'of the bright 
drops that fell from them. •■■''. 

■■•.-.' My ' heart was full of" perturbation ; and 
when at ■ intervals, I spoke, it : was to recom- 
mend earnestly to Pharamond, the boy I was 
'leaving behind— yet whom, like the; fabled 
pelican, I would fain have nourished, with my 
blood. : Still, when we approached the' oppo- 
site shore of the river, and. -saw,' at a distance,, 
the Convent of Trots .Rivieres; a thousand oth- 
er sentiments and sensations came rushing and 
mingling, with those which, so lately, were true 
to maternity. 

'.Duty had triumphed over love ; but :the 
broad, stream we so sweetly were- gliding over, 
had been crossed when rough with .storms, by 
Ethelwald, to .see me. On the banks. we were 
approaching; he was bornj and a strong desire 
took possession, of my senses to "behold him, 
once, moa^e, ^ere: 'I departed. \ ■ : 

^To(the, ; .nio|rjentafy - : wishes/ of rmy agitated 
thoughtsy^eayen iand^;circumstance:were -.pro- 
pitious. "WMle resting- riniVjai.-;' dwelling that 
overlooked the -river, we learned that the or- 
nament -of the simple town - of his birth htuSr 
been' greeted early -in the morning,, He had 
lefty ;fdrta: few days, the fortress of Quebec^ 
and' the streets of Trots 'Rivieres were enliven- 
ed by his- presence. . 

6 The day was unusually • warm, I had once 
more- bathed in water from the river I loved. 



THE CONFESSIONS,, 175 

and dressed, for our repast, in the thinnest of' 
my mourning- attire, I looked earnestly in the 
small mirror of my bed-ioom-for-oiie-night, 

and saw with a deep satisfaction that some 
roundness of contour had returned again -to 

my person. I dropped a moment, on my knee 3 
and thanked the Almighty for his benefits. 

c A dessert of fragrant melons and raspber- 
ries from newly-felled forests, was served with 
dried fruits brought from distant -climates by 
the commerce of Britain, and sometimes tast- 
ed in this spot, even by the savage hunter of 
the desert. 

s While we still sat lingering at the board., 
the coming of a stranger was announced. -He 
bent as he entered the door 5 it * was" but the 
self same figure which before had" been- -pres- 
ent to my soul 5 but to look upon the heaven- 
ly reality was a delight so supreme, that the 
past and the future were as nothing. 

' The Hiss of the deity is but love. .Those 
who have known what is love in perfection, 
though on earth, and but for a moment, need 
not ask what reward awaits'the jiisfc. 

6 The sun was declining -in . its beauty | we 
fiat over the dessert, and the brim of one glass 
of the tears of the grape was-pressed-to-my 
lips as those of Ethelwaldi;ouched~ another.- — 
¥e drank to those who were^away ;~but our 
souls at that moment were rushing towards 
each other, and could see no object but the 
present h4 



.•Scarcely -a drop was swallowed save % 
Phara-inond, who; soon threw himself .upon., the 
sofa,, 'so oppressed with heat., that, sleep was 
with difficulty resisted* 

& I stood, near a window,, with Ethelwsld 2 
whom I .never rhad seen befoie in summer*— 
The . intense sua of ■ that season, so brief in 
Ills country, had slightly tinged his forehead, 
which seemed amid the snows of winter too 
spotless for an earthly material. But the 
charm, of his expression seemed enhanced £ 
and as his. light golden hair was faintly mO'?ed 
by the zephyrs of his own native riveij I 
thought I could feel, by sympathy, every thrill 
of those delicate arteries tha^; made him . a h^ 
mg of sensation. : 

4 The twilight became paler and paler : sleep 
had possessed itself of Pharamond,-and we -both 
looked fr^p ; :|i|e-windoWy.upon:the waves dark-* 
ening with. shadows, yet still tinted with rose 
color* Herewas; now, at. leas V an opportuni- 
ty for some explanation of the past. But the 
past and theWunire. were as nothings to. see, 
and to feel wassom-ueh, that every other or* 
gan was inactive. An innate sense told me 
1 should speak % but my tongue could find only 
broken sentences. 

4 .Do yow remember, I said 3 . « ' 1 am ncrt/ 
replied -he, whom I looked upon, 1 1 never can 
be ungrateful P . . . I felt -.the. soft warm pres- 
sure of the hand into which mine had fallen. 



THE CQOTEeSSJsOWS. V7f- 

and -that we weteto part forever ^ melted or ¥a»« 
ishedfroni my intellect, as a tiling which could 
not he possible. (*) 

4 A word of a, premise, must have-, united :©ur 
destinies, hat neither word nor promise was 
spoken. Something both wished to .'impact, 
seemed, struggling to hurst forth front our lips, 
but neither had the powisr of utterance. . .'■» 
What mysterious influence reigned absolute 
til the dear opportunity was no more V-That 
question-Can only he answered fey the. being 
who marks out, on -the: map of eternity, the 
path iir which mortals are to .-wander. 

s Our tongues were like tongues of the en- 
tranced | the countenance ©f Ethel wald, though 
now shaded 'by evening, appeared to toe anx- 
ious and wishful* I long" to-hear or say : some.^ 
thing definite ; — but alas I it was impossible to 
break the -ineffable silence of expectancy. 

i 1 knew not bow much time had passed, but' 
the moon had risen and .was shining j and ,a 
servant, at length, came in, to ask -of Phaxa- 
mond directions for wur morning departure.—-- 
A, Bustling noise, and the. moving of travelling 
trunks ensued \ > it was time for the inn doors 
to -close. 

'Ethelwald seemed reluctant to go j and 1 
began to shudder and tremble, andt could not 
©Fen say remain with me, Phaiamond arose-, 
gave directions to the servants, and appeared 
as I thought, 'impatient. The constant cam- 
h5 



173 IDOMEN. 

panion of my thoughts pressed my hand ©lose* 
Jy and departed. 

4 1 saw him from the window ? in the moon- 
light, his noble form, slowly receding on the 
shores of the xiver of ]^is birth. His eyes, to 
the 'last, seemed-- turning frequently back to- 
wards my window . . . . oh, heaven of iiea« 
vens, shall I never behold him again] — to 
what purpose then, has he been known to me V 

"Here," said Dalcour, ; " I arose a moment, 
and asked of Benito, those fruits of the night- 
flowering cereus which had- been gathered 
the evening before, and were now kept by this 
favorite negro in a small vase of marble from 
France. They were the first of their kind that 
Idomen : had ever seen,, and the current of her 
thoughts was insensibly changed as she ad- 
mired them. . 

" I cut into halves, with a knife ."of silver, 
one of the sweet juicy apples or formations, 
divested it of dts outward prickles, and by tas- 
ting one :: ^ortioni myself, compelled. -Madame 
Burleigh. %6 /swallow ■■: the other. ■' ^?Ms, with 
the usual process of. rinsing, the sweetness of 
fruits from her. lips, and the ivory within them, 
diverted her mind! from what it dwelt on,, and 
calmed the over-rising emotion. She looked 
at me, thanked me for my care, smiled gently, 
and-xesumed': 

4 The hurry of travelling admits ©f no con- 
sideration j and perhaps its principal charm Is 



THE CONFESSIONS. ' 179 

'the "decision it continually demands. The-' 

boat would go at a certain hour in the morn- 
ing, and those who would depart must be. rea- 
dy. 

'■Till twelve at night, I was occupied in 
■ making those arrangements most necessary to 
cleanliness and to order ; and at sis in the morn- 
ing, I arose. The bell of departure was ring- 
ing, as we stepped from the shore to the ves- 
sel- 

4 1 had nerved myself, as well as I could, to 
walk in the path traced by heaven j yet mj 
eyes, from time' to time, wandered round in 
the hope of encountering a form transcendent 
above all others. But a letter was all that 
came| it-was placed in the hand of PharamoncL, 
who did not present it to me, till ■ far on our 
way to Montreal. • 

6 1 lay down on my berth to break the sea! ; 
it was tender but not conclusive — " give me," 
said Ethelwald, " your address, and you shall 
receive from me a full explanation." 

4 The hurry of the- changing scene, a thou- 
sand doubts, a thousand wishes, a thousand 
fears and regrets — all combined to overpower 
the cooler energies of reason, that might have 
been enough for my happiness.- . 

i I remembered all that I had suffered/ and 
thought Ethelwald cold and ungrateful in -al- 
lowing me, thus to leave his country — and yet 
my pains had never been known to him, aisi 



;fg0 XDttMEH. : 

the greatest offence that had been given, my 
•own hand had committed when I sent to him 
-the packet sealed with black. 

{ But the last brief, delightful interview, was 

still -so vivid on my '.memory, that- my mind 
dazzled by the present, looked not calmly up- 
on past events. Of my answer to the: last 
aote of him, who had seemed to .measerapii, 
1 ©an only remember this sentence t — -" I go, 
perhaps never to return — I ask no explanation 
*— may every Jhappiness-atteiM yom«" 

4 Having slept but little in the -night, I- seat 
to' excuse myself to Pharamond from sitting at 
liis side whife at table ; 'drew closely the cu?° 
tain of my. ber-th^ : and clung- .for ! refreshment 
to my pillow* Thought would not be bidden 
•to.;- rest, 'ibiat isported-as it w&e^ with.- /the' stings 
of inquietude , and the lines' tied -round with -a 
riband tif carnation, came .flowing to be arrang- 
ed: on that' day „ 

'Dempusiier thus describes the young Ham- 
ter of Cywus,- when ■ he - inspired that senti- 
■meat which proved the cause -of his death:—- 

" He was. 'not immortal j but of that enchant- 
ing age; when ]i& : resembles immortality. 'W 
The same .might -have been -said of Ethelwald, 
when first seen at P— — ^--cL ■ 

,£ Since sending the fatal black-sealed pack- 
<fct, I had scarcely- thought of -making- ¥erse% 
(but the «ght of my idol had' been like the in- 
Unease of -the < god of Delphos. The stanzas, 



THE .CONFESSIONS, 18 1 

perhaps, are unpolished, for "1 never had the 
heart to retouch them. 

Had the blest fair who gave thee Mrth 9 
Lived where iEgean waves are swelling, 
Ere yet calm reason came to earth, 

Warm Faney's lovelier reign dispelling^, 

The Sire of Heaven., she had believed,' 
To stamp thy form had ta'en another/' 
And all who saw had been deceived-* 

And given, the Delphic God a brother, i 

And many a classic page had- told 
Of nymphs and goddesses admiring ; 
Altars, libations, harps of gold. 

And .milk-white hecatombs expiring* 

And -oh I perchance there had remained 
Some Phidian Wonder— still, still breathing 
Love'—life— - ^asd charms— past- -but retained ;— 
And warmth and bliss had still seemed wt eathing 5 

Softly around t^eHearen-touched stone, 
As now a light seems, from thee, beaming- 
While thought — sense — los£ in -looks 'alone, 

'Grow dubious if awalceNor dreaming. 

\ 

And must tbou pass ?— nor picture show 3 
For sculpture, what my lyre is telling ?— 
Too feeble lyre ! — as morn's bright glow 
Fades o'er the river near thy dwelling ?— 

Spirit of Titian ! hear, and some, 

If come thou. mays J t 3 a moment hither^ 

85 Iaiti!«sK!it I® tie fable Of Jopiter and Alcmena. 



182 IDOBfEN* 

leave thf loved Italy, thy home— 
Oh I let but one acanthus wither, 

Round her loved rains, while thou stay J st,—» 
Gome to these solitudes, and view them ; 
Must genius ne'er their beauties taste ?— 
JN T or tear of rapture ever dew them ? 

Yiew the dark rock— the' melting blue 
Of mount and sky so soft ^embracing-— - 
The bright broad stream,— but beauty, hxae, 
Life- form, are : here,-7-all else effacing. 

Nature, to mock the forms of bliss 

Which fervid mortals have created,, 
From their own soul's excess, made this 3 -~ 
And gazed at her own powers elated* 

Fragrant 'o'er all the western groves 
The tall magnolia towers unshaded. 
But, soon, no more the gale- he loves 
Faints on his ivory flowers 5 they're feded 

The .full-blown rose, mid^P dewy sweets 5 
Most perfect dies 5 but, soon returning,, 
The^next born, year; another. greets, 
Whe^summer . fires .- again • are burning,, 

Another/' rose' may bloom, as .sweet, 

Other magnolias ope In Whiteness, — 

But who again,. fair scenes, shall meet, 

The like of him who. lends you brightness ?-» 

Come, then, my lyre, ere yet again 
Fade these freskfields J. shall forsake them4» 
But some fond ear may hear thy strain 
When all is cold which thus can wake them* 



THE CONFESSIONS. 183 

€ Thimgh disappointed in the regard and 
constancy of Pharamond, he still held and will 
ever, hold a large space in my affections. 

6 At the hour of the principal repast, with 
strict injunction that I should swallow them 3 
he sent me bread, soup, and fruit from the 
plentiful table of the boat, that bore us ? against 
the current of the river, with a noise. like the 
- roaring of Niagara. 

fi At length the dull murmur of waves and 
machinery assisted me in gaining repose ; but 
ere the. twilight had faded, I went out to walk 
upon the deck | for soon I must part, perhaps 
forever, with a kinsman now doubly endeared 
to me r by.a thousand regrets and recollections. 

'Pharamond gave me his arm ; spoke kind- 
ly ? and bade me be supported j and his was the 
only arm upon' which, since my walks at N — 1 ? 
I could lean upon without. a shudder., 

i The long northern twilight was beautiful. 
The track of the engine that propelled us was 
seen like a glittering serpent* on the far per- 
spective of the river, whose limpid course- it 
had disputed. Yet,, despite of the rumbling 
noise and foaming agitation of our course; the 
light batteaux of the peasant's .were seen near 
the 'fertile shores, or crossed- the' far off- 'trail 
with strong a* ms trained ' to the : oar. .The . 
scene around was so lovely and' "peaceful that 
it minded rae, as we §#8li|t^ alongj, of para-? 
clise .when Eve was drii' 








18& ■ WOMEN* 

6 The scenes I -was so rapidly leaving were 

those most entwined with my affections.- The 
waters of the pure^ 'sweet fiver, sparkled and 
reflected the deepening color of the sky. 1 
thought of him born upon -its hanks,, and of 
the doubtful future that awaited me. Tears. 
gushed from my eyes 7 and it seemed to me at 
that moment, a far happier lot to be sunken in 
the Ladaiianna, than to part, with those who 
drank of it, forever. ...-..■ 

4 1 talked mush -with Fharamond, and his 
Yoice had softened to a tone as tender and en* 
comrtfgingy as. when he first beheld me just 
expanding to the figure ofHvoinanhoocL 

4 At ten o'clock my cousin mildly compell- 
ed me to retire to sleep for refreshment— but 
my head and heart were too full for sleep, and 
the verses tied with riband of purple and rose 
color, were half' of them pencilled ere I rested. 

'TO ^HE^. RIVER OF ST. LAWRENCEe 

The first time I 'beheld thee 3 beauteous stream, 
How pure— how smooth—how broad thy bosom headed ! 
What, feelings rushed' upon my heart !— a gleam 
As ofaiiother life, my kindling soul received* 

Fair was the dayystndy.o'er the crowded deck s 
Joy shone in many a. smile 5 —light clouds., in huq, 
As silvery as the new-fledged cygnet's neck. 
Cast,- as they moved 5 faint shadows on the blue 

Soft ? ileep 3 and distaffljL $£Hhft mountain chain*" 
Wreathing and blendmg 3 ' tint with tint, and traced 

m It will be. seen 'that the writer had in imagination ft 






THE C0KFE-S9-IONS'.- 185 

So gently on- the smiling sky ; — in vain 

Time — scene — has changed; "twill never fee effaced* 

Now o'er thy tranquil "breast, the moon-beams quiver— 
How calm the air- — how still the hour — how bright ! 
Would thou wept doomed to be my grave, sweet rivers- 
How blends my soul with thy pure breath to -■night- 

The dearest hours that soul has ever known, 
Have been upon thy brink ; would it could wait— 
And, parted, watch thee' still ;— to stay and moan 
With thee, were better than my promised fate. 

Ladauanna ! monarch- of the north f 

Father of streams unsung, be sung by me ! — - 

Receive a lay that flows resistless forth ! 

Oh! quench the fervor that consumes, in thee .'■ 

Pve seen more beauty on thy banks™ more bliss— 
Than I had deemed were ever seen below;— 
Dew falls not on a happier land than this : — 
Fruits spring from desert wilds, and love sits throned ou 

[snoWc 

Snows that drive warmth to shelter In the heart ; — 
Snows that conceal, beneath their, moonlight heaps, / 

Plenty^s rich embryo; — fruits -jf flowers thafe start i£&Mn 

To meet their full-grown Snd%^as strong to earth .he \ • 



[leaps* 



a 



How many grades- of life thou viewf st 5 thy wave 
Sears the dark daughter of the woods, as light 
She springs to her canoe ; and wildly grave, (26) 
Views the " great spirit" mid the fires of night. 

long extent of the. St Lawrence, - from the spot where 
these stanzas were composed^ no. .mountains are to be 
sees. h6 



A hardy race, spru'nig fm'm the Gaul, and ^ay ? 
Frame- tiiefr wM's'tih^s'arid siiig^ f heiri to the- oar J 
And think to chase the forest-fiends away, 
Wh&efeti no rnxm^ell tinkles- frdifi- the shore* 

The pensive nun throws-' "back the- veil' that hides 1 
Her calm, chaste" eyes ; straining- them^ long; t'd mar % 
, When the mist thickens, if perchance their bides 
The peril — wintering: on. — soirie little bark-- 

And trims her lamp 'and hangs' it in her tower 1 j- 
Ztiot as 1hepm&ig9>did>-e£9lA$ (shW driven* 

To do that deed by no fierce passion's power,) 
But Madly — calmly — for the lovtf of heaven-* 

Who had been lostywhaf li'earj from breatifi^sate'di' 
She knows notMJiiitks" not? j— gu ided by her star,- 
Some being leaps to shore f— 3 twas all she craved,— 
She makes the holy sig% and- blesses : :hiin from-far. 

The plaided soldier, in Ms" -mountain:, pride, 
J£mltmgy&S/H% treads with 'statelier pace,—' 
Views 'Ms white, limbs reflected in thy tide. 
While wave the] sable plumes that shade his manly face < 

The song- of Os'slan mingles witfr thy gale,-^- 
The harp - of Oarblan's' remembered* here. 
Tie :brightt.hairea ;; s;oii 'of Eriny tern-Ms-tale, 
Dre&MsHdf his misty isle, arid drops, for her, a tear. 

Thou'st se'eri / ffie , trdpi , ie-s'of tJiat deaf hless day 5 
"Whose name brigKt'glsffice'frOnY -every tifitbii briiigsj 
When half the' worM W f aVmd"s"halM' in array, 
And feU thfe-gfeat^ selif nurttirfed 6 *Mng dfMngsl*' 

ToatMurGolilmbiE>'ply ttr^use'M arts, 
Sesr-tE'e-itrbag iliir&elitig tUffmt { Mothei J lui^ 



THE CQ_9F£SS;0NS. 1ST 

\ 

Called Liberty, Thy boundless fields, Shy marts,— 
Enough For thee j tempt tfiege-toiiown rocks no .more* 

Or leave: them to tkaifew^whf) blind to gold, 
Jlnd scorning pleasure, brave with higher zest 
A doubtful path 5 mid pain, want, censure, hold—* 

To pant onefeirered hour, on Genius 3 .breast. 

lfatare 5 s best loved,- thine -own, thy virtuous West,, 
Chose for his pencil a Canadian sky ; 
Bade Death recede, who the fallen victor prest, 
And made : - perpetuate, Ms latest sigh.* f 

Sully, of tender tints transparent, fein 
I would thy skill awhile 1 for memory^ showing, 
To prove' thy hand the purest of thy train, 
A native beauty from 'thy pencil glowing. ' 

Or he who sketched the Cretan ; gone her Greek ; 
She, all unconscious that he's false or flying,, 
Sleeps, while the light Mood revels in her cheek 
So rosy warm, we' listen for her' sighing.f 

Could he paint beauty, warmth, light, happiness? 
Diffused around like fragrance from a tower 5-— 
And melody— all thai or sense can Mess, 
Or said, 'concentrate in am form his power, 

Fd ask-, lt|t Mature., Mature, when thou, wilt, 
Thou' canst enough tot make all art despair 1— 
Suard well, the wondrous, model thou hast built, 
Which, these, thy nectared waves, reflect and love to, baar* 



w In allusion to West's celebrated picture* u Tfo* feft 
Qf0i%emI'Wdf£j2 r ' ■ 

f Vanderlyn— -see Ms picture of " Ariadne." 



■ 



fS$ 1D0HEN. 

Vature, all powerful Nature 3 thine are ties 
That -seldom break. Tho 5 the heartbeat so cold, 
'That Love and Fancy's fairest garland dies— 
Tho* false, the" light as -air, thy Jbonds "may hold, 

'The mother loves her child j — the brother yet 
Thinks of his sister 3 tho 5 for years., -unseen'.;— - 
And seldom doth the bridegroom quite forget 
Her mho : hath blest 'him, once 3 tho 5 seas may roll "be- 

£tweea ■ 

But can a Friendship, -pare -arid rapture-wrought, 
Endure without such bonds ? — HI deem it may ? 
And bless the hope k'_ nurtures ;— beauteous thought.,-— 
Howe 5 er fantastic — dear illusion,-— stay S 

■0 ! stream ! country of my heart] farewell 1 
5ay, shall I e'er return ? shall I onee more— 
Ere close these, eyes .that, looked. to love— Ah tell 1 

■Say,, shall I tread again thy fertile shore ?— 

C v ■ • 

Else, how endure my weary, lot — the strife, 
To gain content! When far — the burning sighs— 
The asking wisj£— the aching void — oh 3 life ! 
Thou art ..and hast been, one long sacrifice I 

6 At eight in : the* mornings we were landed, 
and sat, in a ' breakfast room, at Montreal.-— 

Pharamond couM go with me ho farther 5 the 
season, for the ^;^er^atit of Canada was quiet 
ly pasBing:away^ani; ; yessels were waiting at 
Quebec to be freighted 'under his direction* 

c l was left- with a friend ..of my cousin, who 
had ||FGwn old amid the toils .of commerce f 
but his .soul was the seat of" rectitude. TSie 



"THE CONFESSIONS, 189 

well known name of Horace Gear, was spread 
over the wide provinces which Britain retains 
In America, and was familiar alike to the mer- 
chants of the neighboring republic. 

6 This just man had a wife and children, to 
•whom he was tenderly attached \ he express* 
•ed surprise- at my loneliness, and my courage 
to attempt so long a journey and voyage, with- 
out any- protection, save of strangers. "^Yet, 
after reflecting a moment, he said, in a tone 
of emotions " Em ma, my wife, -might be forced 
to do the same; if storms should destroy my 
shipping, and I should be called to leave this 
worlds _ May God ensure towards her the 
same goodwill that I "feel f A -faithful girl 
was procured to attend me, and an -elderly 
friend of 'my kind host, who was- now, 'on a 
visit of pleasure, offered to go with me to New 
York. At that city, increasing in 'commerce, 
another -merchant, "known alike to /Horace 
Gear, and to- my cousin, ■ had directions by 
letter, to receive me, and to provide a safe 
passage to ; this : islands ■-' " ■■■■■■:■■■•■■ ■•■■•■ 

i Gear was ' opulent and respected, and his 
table was -profuse andiibspitable \ his fair wife 
was not well, but a female relation- presided. 
'He wished to. present me to his friends, 'and 
said . ' "I -should like' better to; know your 
heart bestowed, on someone kere^ than- to see 
you trust yourself, so fearlessly, to -.the dan« 
gers of the sea and to fevers* 5 * 



. < Courtesy .ireflnirei P f TO $*?r$W'$ fotf 
^he?i forced to tafce the arm pf a stranger, 1$ 

passing -from room to rpqm,, my h/eart.^lixank 

within me i 'fpt I thought of scenes at If- t r 

sndpfthpfrm whjc|i had there, h4en mine. 
T' ^Tt^.day was foed fqr my/4ep ar turej ap ; 4 
the .ir'awHer appointed to .escort me, seemed 
gfeased tf^hetter, as .1 promised to leave eve- 
ipj5 thing to his directicra. Bqiif n was th e name 
'of Jjiigf companion entirely nnlqipwn 5 pf years 
he had nnmbered seventy 5 in Ms youth he lis J. 
©j^igratpd frTO Britain |. and he- told nie thaf: 
p$. he possessed, had been gained by the trees 
pi the desert, ,wJiiGh lie caused to be felled 
qx oimd ' Iwm, and then s<ent thpni, in Eafts g 
$%ough ma§y rivers, tq freight vessels for \^p 
|ia|iye Jgji ct Few 3 in these northern' domains^ 
eqpjd/ excel Jiiin in fortune; thg sports of the 
ijinter gave him health \ and thp strength of 
fais manhood was prolonged, r I lisfciisd to the 
^tpry pf his life ;, of his' gangers when lost in 
the fqrest— of 'his many adventures -with the 
Indians 1 and the beautiful daughters Q? th^ 
wpogs, which, <teing his, course, hphaj seen. 
>Hk , m «™q?y m® cl.ear aji4 yigq?oiis 1 and hlo 
fetellecf;, ^ntired with study 3 upacte eager roo- 
9Ff}' s 9f ft^-piffise^t. 

* J had little tp 4%, s^e to listen ;• and If 
l|l Wfepd, as he, jspfl&e, th@ unspent! P'fe 
¥M<lA whklim|i|t sctop, leipe ifo etatld-If 
material. 



THE . Cd$F-Si&IONS. iff 

" ' c 'Ho%r.pl^^t to my ear, aire' the' i£ccents ; 
which flow from' minds long retained ft' thikr 
world. To nieet a' warm geineroiis ; ii[itel!igeii-ee ? 
unbattered by the sieges of years;,' awakens in 
my heart a sigh; foil the elixir of 'life! 

'Ikriew not the ; country we'" were passing 
through^ and Bburn shook his scarcely gray 
locks, and smiled at my' utter surprise, wlien" 
fold We wore ifiproaenin'g Niagara. He hsi/d 
longed tobeholdV again'. 



that greatest of curiosi° 
ties, — and rip\v thatT time and^ circumstance fa- 
voured, lie knewlwould pardon a- deceit prac- 
tised 1 only to' betray me into pleasure. 
■ s Sorrow, for a few days 3 protraction of my 
jourhey,-waslbstintiie s'lidden expectation of 
Seeing the wonder of half a world, formed 1 as if 
is, by the peerless badaiianiia, which traverses' 
forests and ; lakes to make the most stupen- 
dous spectacle known' either in the old or' new 
doiitinent. 

'Would ttiatthe 1 wheels 1 of the 1 machinist, 
might never be rolled' within the light of its J 
r'aihb'oWsv-ormin^'their clatter with the' deep 
solemnity of its murmur ! 
.-' America-, has risers and torrerits-' enough 
for ; the warife'atid'tiig weiltli-of her"|edple.-~ 
TEe soul need not be bartered for' bread, nor the 
u'cem which iridst exalts-' her aspirations be defac- 
ed' for thi grinding of grain, or ibk viewing of 
earthly habiliments. ' » " ~^~~ . 

& 'M)fi!krM Mfof ilk n&w iSorld^ mi ~yto fair 



WsSm. 



192 , .IDOMEK.' -.;-.:■,■ 

isles which are called its mother,- encircle the falls 
ofjfiagara? protect them with the spell of your 
power, and consecrate the spectacle v to "God the 
mfuserofsoulslV 

c The earth trembled beneath out feet as we. 
reached an ion near the beautiful abyss. For 

the first day the roar was deafening, and when 
first led to the brink I could not stand unsup- : 

ported j But sank upon my kneea f to endure the 
confused and overwhelming, sensation.. 
x j l Seven, days- we remained: in'the neighbor- 
lllod, and when more familiar with the, noise.,, 
"self possession, at last was restored to me. 

6 The first ¥iewhad been as nothing 5 for • 
the varieties of the scene were infinite. Eve- 
?y point' presented • views • entirely new, and 
each, as we gazed,, seemed astonishing above 
all the 'rest. 

c On;the side of the precipice which beloags 
to the republic, one branch of the vast torrent 
lolls. over a trembling cliff higher, and a little 
teached. from- the immense rock of the cen- 
tre* ,; and midway down the steep, projects a 
tfireatening crag accessible to the- footsteps of 
the daring. 

At this point* the amazing height- of the 'fall 
strikes the deepest impression, on the senses. 
A rude stair-case winds down, and gives access 
to- a ledge of the precipice whence travellers 
May obtain a view. 

5 Qae can go to the ledge here alluded to, by means of 
wliat is -called the " Biddle staircase,' 3 



THE CONFESSIONS, . -19$ 

4 On tliis crag is sometimes seen a solitary 
human, figure in dark, fearful- relief, against 
the sparkling foam of the headlong, streara,- 
which he can touch with his hand, while dis- 
tant alike from the summit, and the terrible 
gulf beneath. Be it savage, cradled in dan- 
ger, or civilized man nerved by thought, the 
headaches to behold a mortal thus poised' be- 
tween beauty and death. 

'At different hours of the day appear the most. 
vivid rainbows, which change their soft beds of 
foam, -resembling down, with the rise and de- 
cline of the sun $ while the tints of the whole 
mass of waters, are more tenderly exquisite- 
even than the colors of the- sky. 

6 The same waves that cause all this splen? 
dour wouldpass by the happy dwelling where 
he whom I loved, first saw light. They form 
the most beautiful of cataracts, and. ere they 
could -reach, the sea., would bathe and give drink 
to the most beautiful of mortals ! 

* On the brink of the precipice. appertaining 
to Britain, and near where the river falls -in 
the figure of a vast crescent, a high overhang- 
ing rock has been shaped by nature like a ta- 
ble, and on the level of its top, a slight build- 
ing is_pl-aced for refreshment to the weary.— 
On the last evening of our stay, my conductor 
sat- within its shelter, holding in his hands a 
book in which travellers record their sensa- 
tions. l The feelings of a lady, 5 said Bourn, 



m 



194 jdomen. ■*"■'■ '•.." @^$f^ '■■■■. f 

I - : '-i- ■■■■■'■ ■■': ■ "■•. : -'' ''-■<■-''!■: .'■'';;■.■ | ' 

€ will be finer than; those of a hunter or feller 
of forest trees \ go out awhile, alone, upon the 
guck, and think of something to write in this 
volume-,, that 1 may never hold again I will 
teace your name in my own rude hand, which 
dipped in 'Mood, like that of savages, -"has 'ta*. 
lien with them, skins from the doe, ermine arid. 
castor/ : ; 

6 1 ^ T QrA out, but trembled all me while ;-and 
' when the aged hunter came to seek me, I gave 
him the verses tied with riband of pea-grfeen 
and lilac— colours most predominant ipi the 
■dolphin while dying, in agony to himself, but 
in beauty and pleasure to those around him— 
the colors of the Dolphin and of the Falls of -Ni- 
agara. . 

* • # - # # # * 



STANZAS TO NIAGARA. 

Spirit of Homer ! thou whose song has rung 

From thine owe Greece to this supreme specie 
. ; Of Nature* — this . gte'at fane. of Nature 3 s God— 
Breathe on my brain,!— oh-! touch the fervid tongue 
Of a food votaress kneeling on- the sod* 

Sublime and beautiful, your chapePs here ?— 

Here, s neatli the azure dome of heaven, ye're wed— 
, Here, on this rock, which trembles as I Iread ! 

Your blended sorcery claims both. pulse and tear, 
'Controls life's source and reigns o'er -heart and head* 

Terrific — bat, oh.!— beautiful abyss I— 
Ifl should trust my fascinated 'eye 3 



THE CONFESSIONS. 195 

Or 'hearken to thy maddening melody,.' 
Sense — form — would spring to -meet thy white foam^s 

[Idsc — ■ 
Be lapped in thy soft rainbows., once, and die. 

' Colour, depth, height, extension — all unite 
To chain the spirit by a look intense !■ — 
The dolphin, in his clearest seas — or thence 

'Xa'en, for some queen, to deck of ivory white, 
Dies not 3 in changeful tints, more' "delicately 'bright. 

Look ! — look E^-lhere comes, o'er yon pale green es° 

[panse^ 
Beyond the curtain of this altar vast, 
A glad young swan ; — the smiling beams that cast 

Light from her plumes, have lured her soft advance- 
She nears the fatal brink — her graceful life has past* # 

Look up! — nor her fond foolish fate disdain 5 — 
An eagle rests upon the wind's sweet breath- 
Feels he the charm? — -woos he the scene beneatli ? 

He eyes the sun — nerves his dark wing again — 
Remembers clouds and storms — yet flies the lovely 

[death. 

'Niagara ! wonder of this western world, 

And cfj the world beside! hail, beauteous queen 
Of cj^actsJ" an angel, who had been 

5 ep~^feaveir*and. earth, spoke thus — his bright wingg 

[furled — 
And knelt to Nature first, oa this wild cliff unseen, 

s Niagara may almost complete my story.— 
Brought' safely to Mew York, by the aged hun- 
ter, my conductor, a vessel was found ready 
to sail. 

* See note at the end of the volume. *2 




196 ■■ 'IDOMEN. 

* I. wished to see nothing in this city of com- 
merce, save only one gallery of pictures ; and 
even be who had grown old amid deserts^ 
could perceive beauty in some of these.-— 
The'fine arts are learned by inspiration, and a 
true love of them comes from, nature, and na°- 
tore alone. 

( 'Plac.ed safely on board a good vessel with 
the maid I had .brought from Montreal 5 recom- 
mended to those'who bore me on my Way in 
such terms "as I knew. would be regarded; I 
bade farewell, forever, to the courteous stran- 
ger of the forest, who hadoeen to me so excel- 
len| a guide., We parted, with warmth and 
regret, in the hope of meeting only in heaven. 

6 These verses were composed as I lay, 
-doubtful of the future, and musing continually 

on the past. 

The summer flowers not -yet are past, 

I The distant bower not yet is sear j— - 

Why do I shrink, as wave and, blast 
Blend in low murmurs to my ear ? 

But late this weary form could brave 
Autumnal blast or wintry storm 3— 
I stood' upon thy frozen wa?e s 
Ladauannaj and was warm* 

That wave upon my glowing lip ? 
Melted to nectar 5 and the air 5 
But Froze ~my breath, to let it drip 
Like summer dew-drops, from my liaii\ 



/ 



THE . CONFESSIONS. 197 

Why to wild forests have I knelt, 

As to heaven J s shrine, I need hot tell,— 

But ask no more than half I felt. 

For every yellow ieaf that fell. 

Oh, how 1 loved ! — the coldest "glen, 
The pine tree bending -Watti its ice, 
The snows that form the black bear's dm s 
To me, bore flowers of paradise. 

Hoars of enchantment, life and light. 
Can ye be -fled to come no inore^? — 
No !— heart, if thou had'st known a blighf 9 
Less pain were al thy wounded core,. 

Sweet spirit of the desert wild. 
Who lent "thy plaintive harp to me. 
And loved me, when a pensive child*, 
Oh, guard my lone maturity ! 

For, like the ocean bird, I roam. 
From wave to wave, nor look for rest ;— 
The sea my path, tlie world my home, . 
My guide a flame that burns my^breast ! 

s Tossed three weeks upon the waves of 
autumn, I reached this warih Island, but to 
learn that the friend I most relied on — he who 
saw Hie depart with tears, was 'no longer on 
earth to give me welcome,, He had died on 
his way to the North, where -'haply he had 
wished to meet me. 

4 The Mow, for a time, was teiacible-.} hut the 
God who kreaved.gave also. The friendfyLor- 
ington, he who found, me this dwelling, came 
^ i3 



198 idomer. 

soon to tell me, that my uncle IiWellyii, ete 
he left the world, had provided enough for my 
necessities. Leonora, the Spanish lady of 

this -last friend, came also to invite me to her 
home 5 and with her I remained, until this re* 
treat could be made ready for my shelter. 5 

u Thus finished , the narrative of t do men.-— 
The hour of her repast was approaching ; I 
saw her arrange the fruits and flowers-"! had 

brought, whjle a place was prepared for nm 
■at table. 



THE CATASTROPHE. 

" At the hour of -the siesta I departed with 
Benito, who hung, in a neighboring thicket, 
my- hamiriock of coloured ndian grass ; and 
lay down, himself, near nie, on the fresh' turf of 

nialva- — while our horses slightly confined? had 
liberty enough. to sleep and to feed upon the 
verdure around them. Half slumbering, half 
reflecting on plans for the future, I lay till the 
sun declined ; then returned through the woods 
ioMij own dwelling.. 

/ " A letter was waiting me, from the friend 
1 who had purchased this retreat. My presence 



THE CATASTROPHE, I9f 

%^as required at Havana, and he who present* 
ed the paper, had come to take my place while 
gone, in directing the labors of my plantation, 

"My stay need be only fourteen days, but I 
shrunk from leaving, so soon, the woman who 
found comfort in my presence. 

u Yet ""the settlement i desired in my affairs^ 
was needful,- even to Idomen ; for my fast in- 
creasing " cafctaiy was r to be for her use as 
well as mine«r This plantation before my pur- 
chase was called Santa Teresa - ;? the name 
still remained cut in. wood, but 1 changed it 
ere Iweiit for that of Idomen, ''resolving to 
procure at Havana, letters of silver to-be plao 
ed at my- portal.* 

" To embark for two. weeks for Havana re- 
quired but an evening 5 s preparation ; and before 
eleven in the morning, I 'stood at the door of 
■ her who made every morning cheerful. 

'" A volante with curtains of green silk, 
closely drawn for the morning, had already 
preceded my visit 5 and Loringtoii and Leono- 
ra were sitting on the sofa, with; Idomen. ' 

" A sadness came over the countenance of 
my friend, when 1 said I^must he absent for 
two weeks; but Loringtota smiled, and prom- 
ises all the care she mightVraquire. 

" Benito still lingered at the^/door, by his 

* It is very common in Cut% to name .plantations off er 
favorite ladies 5 the Spanish nameSj however., are usually 
those ©f particular saiats, 
14 



SOO IDOM-EN;. " ; 

'hpr.se, laden- with fruity | I went to. speak with 
■him a moment, and glanced towards .-the lim- 
pid Yumuri. A biack vulture was again stalk- 
ing at .its margin, with the- stateliness of a 
plumed -hearse. 

, " Leonora had- come,- to invite Madame Bur- 
leigh to- -dine, at her home, in the heart of Ma- 
tanzas.. The manner of her4iving pleased me, 
^nd brought to mind the c^ties^ of antiquity. — 
We entered by the large* door ; -the hall ox 
principal- apartment was furnished with: sofas 
of silk, and u biitacas v or -.easy chairs of the 
country. A door, curtained with lawn, led 
from this to the nuptial chamber, -and we pass- 
ed through an airy refectory, to the inner 
court, planted with flowers and. shrubs, and 
surrounded by small, apartments ; while the 
side farthest from the front,, and allotted to. the 
use and employments of servitude, was entire- 
ly concealed by screens and foliage. The 
floor, of the ; couri, (or its alleys between beds 
of.-ilowers). was -paved, and. on. a level with the 
principal: apartment. ■ 
, .^J^ou have seen- this'form of building; it is 
^^oj' uncommon, in. Cuba ; but neatness^ , order 
and comfort, distinguished the hospitable dwelt 
ing of Lorington, ;the. friencl. of the stranger. 
; 4< The sparkling Hack eyes of Leonora spoke 
vivacity rather thyan languor, and instead of 
that, roundness of form, most .remarked in the 
ladies of this island of ease*, in her was. seen 
the imagfe of lightness. 



THE CATASTROPHE . 201 

: l|: Seldom at rest, slie v changed our seats 
from -'one silken, sofa to ^he other 5 from the 
ball to the open refectory^ where.; birds were 
hung in cages decked, with ribands of many col- 
ors, 'The flowers- of her court were fragrant in 
the dews of evening,- .when placing herself atthe 
'door of the refectory to inhale the sweet' air 
around them, she saiig a few wild Spanish airs 
that thrilled through the bosom of Idomen* — • 
Leonora had never been taught . music, but a 
true ear and. a natural taste had given, her pe- 
culiar sweetness in the expression of strains 
on a minor key, and in-every chromatic pas- 
sage. 

" Her songs, her pleasing Spanish accents, 
and her cheerfulness,' were charming to my 
guileless Idomeii 5 but still an unwonted de» 
jeetion came over her, as she sat or moved 
with Leonora. 

"1 felt, as'l looked»at her, even as the /moth- 
er, who leaves, for the first time, '. her infant ; 
for Idomen was dear to my son I. as the last 
born darling that smiles upon the bosom of 
maternity" when all its brethren ■ are ■•no<- more. 

"Yet, '/or fiar^ there seemed bo reason. — 
1 left her in the care of the same friends with 
whelm she was safe before I saw her ^ The man» 
ner of her life, beside., was innocent and reg- 
ular as nature,. 

a At sis in the- warm, fair morning, the beau? 
*ilM bay glowed with light, and the steam- 
i5- ■ ' " 



■• ' : 



202 IDOMEN. 

boat was ready for, departure. Pirates might 
be -lurking near the shores, or some bold pri* 
Tateer of Columbia might be hostile to the 
islanders of Ferdinand, but fears entered not 
in the scene.* 

" Mothers, with eyes of love, and forms 
rounded by indulgence, sat in indolent hap- 
piness, amid groups of smiling children j young 
girls, with long braided black hair, and lashes 
curling on their cheeks, cast livelieir glances 
among the strangers, and waved' their . small 
hands as they saw, from time to time, an ac- 
quaintance $ while black female slaves, loving 
ana 1 " obese, sat down upon .the floor, around 
them, sinking often- to sleep upon each other's 
laps when their services were not required. 

.^ The ease end content that reigned among 

^foese* Cuban families, formed a vivid contrast 

' to the faces of foreign merchants ; playing, as 

most of them are, at a desperate game with 

Fortune. 

u lfy affairs at Havana were finished, ere the 
second week was ended". When- arrived at 
the port of my home, it was near sunset. The 
first" being I met was Lorington, who told me 
that Madame Burleigh was very ill of a fever ; 
but begged. me to set myself at ease, as every 
thing possible had been done for her. 

'* Durirfg the year 1827 and 3 28, pirates were swarming 
around the coast of Cuba 5 .and tke steamboat between 
Havana and Mataiizas was once or twice boarded bf 
privateers from the neighboring continent 



• THE. CATASTROPHE. 203 

. "Perceiving' -a public volante, . T threw my- 
self into it, and was driven to that dwelling 

sear the banks of the flowery Yum uri, where 
Idomen so lately had met me, in the beauty of 
health and sincerity. 

" A c mulatress 5 hired for her nurse, came 
softJy to the do:or to receive me. A mild 
French physician soon followed, who recom- 
mended perfect stillness, and said that the -fe- 
ver had already -been heightened by impru- 
dence. 

44 1 knew not how to contain myself, but after 
whispering .a moment, crept softly to the bed- 
side of Idomen. Good heaven, -what a change 
had come over 'her— she slept, b lit pain was 
. expressed in every laboured respiration. 

" Her long fair hair, which had once been 
so carefully arranged, was now half conceal- 
ed hj a cap of Jinen, and wet 'with' vinegar to 
allay the aching of her head. The roundness 
had departed from her cheeks; she'faadibeen 
profusely bled — on her temples were the tra- 
ces of leeches ; and burning cataplasms were 
bound upon her arms and feet.. And all this 
change had been wrought in three days ! 

" From nurse, physician, and the white ser- 
vant, who was weeping, I 'could' glean but a 
broken account. Madame Burleigh had taken 
Isold, while walking one evening, after it had 
rained, with her -Spanish friend, Do ~;a Leon» 
©ra j and while still indisposed, had received 



204 idomEn. ; 

letters from Canada. Her head, for two days> 
had ached, and the slightest -uneasiness was 
dangerous | but a state of incipient fever, is 
too often disregarded at Cuba, and 110 physi- 
cian had been called. ' 
' "While Idomen was still in this state, a 
planter had come from the country who had 
lived on intimate terms with Llewellyn Lloyd ? 
her uncle, 

" The name of this planter was Belton — the 
same who passed when I* stood, with her who 
now lay suffering, by the wild fig-tree near the. 

"ay- 

"'Belton had been told of my late attendance 
©h the niece of his friend ; and urged by jeal- 
ousy or some 'worse passion, had questioned 
her roughly on the subject. - He told her that 
her character was in jeopardy on account of 
the freedom of my visits ; and 'that'her present 
way of living was ruinous, not only to her° 
self, but disgraceful to her child and to all her 
relations in Canada. 

" The brain of the unfortunate Idomen was 
already too much inflamed j' and the thought- 
less violence of this disturber awoke a thou- 
sand recollections, and touched upon chords 
which, before, were too 'highly strainedo At- 
tempting to frame an answer, she sank back 
upon the sofa, and gave evidence" of fever and 
delirium . i 

"Belt-on, surprised -and alarmed, had called 



THE CATASTROPHE* 219 

both nurse - and physician', before even the 
friendly Lorington had suspected the approach 
of a malady. 

''The scene had been past but two days; 
and he who caused it had retired to the coun- 
try, as if fearing to witness a death which 
might be the result of his senseless accusa- 
tion. 

"The most painful thoughts had possessed 
themselves of the wandering mind of the suf- 
ferer. Nurse, physician, and every one who 
came near, seemed to her,, as enemies united 
to injure anddisgrace her; even her medieine 
was rejected as a draught that contained some 
treachery. She now slept from exhaustion, but 
her fever was still at its climax. 

" When poor Idomen opened her eyes, I 
gently approached to take her hand, hoping 
to soothe and comfort her. She knew me, but 
started and shrieked as if in an agony of fear* 
" Leave me ! leave me, 55 she said ■'" eveo your 
friendship is denied to me; plots are laid for 
my disgrace and dishonor, and death alone 
.can be , my preserver I ?? 

u 'The cataplasms upon her arms and feet 
became more painful from the slightest move- 
ment ; and I could almost'' have cursed myself 
for disturbing her. I dared not agitate her 
more, but retired to a- corner of the room and 
listened to her wild incoherency. I- would 
fain have ¥/atched over her all night, but-shock- 



206 . .JDOMEN. ' 

ed and thrown into c.onfusion: , -by- the agony- of 
a being so dear to me; and vexed, -wounded, 
and astonished at the suspicion which Belton. 
had cast on me, 'I knew not how to proceed. 

" The wild talking of Idomen ceased, and 
perceiving she had again sunk to sleep, I de- 
sired the .physician to remain while 'f. went to 
consult with Lorington, on the means of qui- 
eting her. fears — determined in my heart, that 
was bleeding for her, not to leave- her again 
in this world. 

" How vain were my precautions ! fatal soli- 
icitude, that defeated the care it would ensure ! 
° " Lorington kindly returned with me. Intend- 
ing to watch some., lucid interval ; and to whis- 
per pence to the sufferer. 

"I had gone but half an English mile, and 
hastened- the s calesero* who drove us* ..-Arri- 
ving half breathless,... I found the principal 
door standing open as usual for the .air, and 
Lorington stole softly to the. curtained apart- 
ment of Madame 'Burleigh, to. see . if she still 
were sleeping. What .'; were. .our, feelings] — ■ 
The bed was untenanted, but still warm with 
the life of her who had pressed it. Both house 
and enclosure were searched ; but neither 
nurse, s&vant, or any living being was to be 
Found. M"e stood a moment as If struck with 
a bolt from the skies, and knew not what to 
think, or what to do. 

"At last, a negro entered the house, and 



THE 'CATASTROPHE. 20f 

told us the Senora was in the river;*- Scarce- 
ly had lie finished when the nurse aiso enter* 
ed, agitated with recent haste. The physician 3 - 
she said, had been called suddenly^ to' his own 
child, who was sick ; and that no blame should 
fall on him or on her, for even I, myself, had 
thought the Senora asleep when I left her. 

"The woman, still trembling, added, as I- 
frantically questioned her, that she had but 
stepped a moment from the bed-iQom to the 
court to get an orange — that while she was 
out erf 'sight, the sick lady had sprung from' 
her bed, and despite of the soreness of her 
feet, had flown, like 'a bird, towards the Yumu-- 
ri. " 1 saw her," continued the mulatress, 
" before she had gone far, and ran after her ; 
she seemed standing on a small rock ; but be- 
fore I could' reach her she was gone. I call- 
ed assistance as soon as I could, -and people- 
still are looking for her. This negro can tell 
where she fell, but if they find her she will be 
dead ; and I must be here to receive her." 

" While the woman still spoke, we were on 
our way to the spot. A handkerchief, worked 
with the name of Idomen, was hanging on a 
shrub on the rock. All night and the next 
day was spent in such search as could be 
made*; but no other trace has been found." 

These last sentences were uttered in bro- 
ken tones, and Dale our left my presence for 
the first time since we met. abruptly . While 



• ^08 . ! -- ; :..,H>pwpN.- ,,,,; 

I still paced the piazza, knowing not whether 
to retire. or- to remain, I saw his door opsin 
through the lattice of the hall,: and knew thafc 
.he again was returning. * 

Our seats were resumed upon . the sqfa of 
bajuca. . The mourner. of Idoraen-ba'dwepk bu£ 
his face had since, been bathed, and 'his silver 

locks . were composed again. " I had thought," 
he ^resumed,, "'to ^'have; spokep:, : wi|h calmn^ss^ 
for more than a year has passed- since the 
scenes so bitter to describe. 
v ^rhatIdpmeu.;-6iidei-g^sho.iild: have lived 
but for such an end, : seems' so like a frustra- 
tion of the plans, of Heaven, : that I scarcely 
can believe she is no more. A vague idea 
soniefimes takes possession of my. mind that 
she still lives, and I shall see her again . Pow- 
ers above, wherever she -may be, deny her 
not your protection. ! 

" The boy, Arvon, has not been told, that 
his mother is„dead. I write monthly to Phar- 
amomd Lloyd, and remit sums for the child 
that I have kissed, as he sat upon the v lap of 
her whom I loved to look upon;.- I-.-now seek 
for. some trusty friend to- go for me to the 
shores of the St* Lawrence, and persuade the 
son of Idomen to come- to these flowery shades ? 
devoted henceforth- to be his paternal domain. 



EPILOGUE. 



After listening to the story of Idomen, I 
soon went to Matanzas. Ambrosio- del Monte 
■had gained the heart of his soft-eyed Raph- 
aella ; and when he returned to his paternal 
roof, to ask a sanction of his nuptials, I was 
pleased in being asked, by the feeling- Dale our ? 
to make my home at his abode. 

The gracefulness of his declining years, and 
the friendship he so soon had conceived for 
ine, enhanced in my imagination, the deep ef- 
fect of his narrative* 

T obtained permission to write the-' story, 
even as it ' flowed from his . lips, and to make 
such' extracts as [■ chose from manuscripts, 
which, like the memory of her who traced 
them, were treasured as if relics of a divinity, 

I wrote a few hoiirs in the morning;- .-some- 
times beneath a tent of thin muslia or:.lawn ? 
spread in i he . woo.ds_ to preserve .me _entirely 
from insects^, but 'oftener was -preferred the 
■eoolness of my own retired apartment. • The 
16 



210 -IDOMEN. 

room of the picture of Fdomen I had been al° 
lowed to enter 3 - but i forbore to remain there 
a moment lor.ger than was necessary to re= 
place the papers, taken from their cabinet of 
porcelain, every day by the hands of DalcoiEF 3 
•and given confidingly to my cafre, with the 
silver key of the oratory. 

The idolatrous respect which thus guarded, 
the remains of the departed was more fully 
transfused through my soul, as I studied the 
fragments left by '; do men.' 
: ! 'KMi shed" ■ spe^ciMeris:/- designs; op no ems ■§n°> 
tirely new in their subject/ and seemingly the 
' conception :'of%^master| ; ;n^te : ;in0' wish" forfife 
and leisure, if it were only, to give to my couri° 
try the outlines of Ihisvunknown .'being of the 
new- world, and! bitrned to become a disciple 
of the dead, and to rfinish them- as '"well- as I 
'might. 

The quiet pursuits of a man of letters ac- 
cord with my 'taste and capacity far better 
than - . the bustle '■■ of the world. ; Health, with 
the i 'kindness of ;a ^benefactor secluded Wen as 
he whose roof ( ;e ) uow gives me shelter, will be 
'enough for my ^success. May I rise from the 
flamesand fragments of her, who is deplored, 
even as a phoenix, though less brilliant, to con- 
sole the guardian 'of the first. 
: The- hours of m-yxecr eat-ion were passed -with 
my Maud protector, and I found in his daily 
mode ©f life, a, constant model for improve- 
ment. 



EPILOGUE. : gll? 

■ He tasted the sweetness of leisure, and aV 
the same time, accomplished much. The con- 
cerns of his estate were conducted with pep- 
feet regularity; but, every task required was 
consistent with ease and indulgence. The 
fruits of his flourishing fields were made rea- 
dy at home, then sent to a merchant at Ma= 
tanzas. The principal accounts of the whole 
were kept, and written out, with his own hand 5 
but two or three hours in the morning entire- 
ly sufficed for their completion. 

■In- governing; ; an& supply mgi the wants of 
more than a hundred human beings, but one 
white man was employed ; and he was not-al- 
lowed to punish,; unless with the consent; of 
his superior. The delinquents of ■ each pre- 
ceding day were kept in confinement till a 
certain hour of the morning, when their mas- 
ter, in person, gave audience ; if any suffered 
pain or injury, they were either; relieved or 
righted ; if any justly merited punishment, its 
infliction was not withheld ; yet- the sound of 
the lash was seldom heard ; and j-the.- penalty 
of the greatest offence could not exceed a cer- 
tain limit. 

At sunset, the whole band were assembled 
in a ring, and repeated, by turns, an evening 
prayer;- they were then dismissed to their 
am tisement,-- till -ithe- sweet toned bell sounded 
ten. The routine -of their- evening was -varied 
according to their wishes. Many prepared 



£l£ .IDQMEN* 

themselves a, meal, of rations given out at noon, 
and now united with, the fruit of their own 
little gardens. The palates of all dark peo« 
pie appear to require strong excitements,,—- 
Garlic, and the strong acid of the lime, pre* 
dominates often in their succulent alias $ and 
the bright- scarlet pimiento, which might well 
he -called vegetable fire, .was not ^ only .boiled 
with their favorite repasts, hut eaten fresh 
from- its stem, like nectarine^ by the ladies of 
Europe. The large crab that wanders through 
the coffee fields, was : of ten arrested in .his 
course, to be ■boiled with their other meats ; 
and some, retaining the taste of Africa, would 
still roast serpents and insects | and eat them! 
unseen, 'by their , fires.. 

Plenty, and 'even profusion, pervaded this 
little domain of a man wise and benevolent^ 
but sloth and, waste were discouraged. Plan- 
tain grove s, with their broad leaves and sweet 
mellow clusters, were free to every inhabitant | 
but to cut down a shoot to no purpose, was 
held in the light of an offence. 

Composed, beneath the roof of one who was 
worthyto.be followed, I conformed entirely 
to his* customs ; and gave, the same time to 
the labors ; of fancy as was passed, in business^ 
by him who so gently lent his favors. Al- 
ways at his side in the time of exercise, ' rode, 
at the hour of -the passeo^ sometimes on horse° 
Back 3 to Matanzas, to see through the colours 



EPILOGUE. 213 

of the "brightly declining sun, the greetings of 
Its loveliest inhabitants. 

Ladies in open volantes, their black braided 
hair, decked with jewels or fresh flowers, for 
the evening, appeared in their sweetest smiles-^ 
cavaliers, darkly handsome, followed often 'in 
other volantes, their line heads uncovered save 
with locks like ebony j and the waving of 
hands softer than theirs was returned -with va- 
ried expression. m . 

Scenes like these were before us ; bat --when 
we looked at the --sky, palmettos; rising high 
amid the beautiful light, marked the narrow 
boundary of the " pueblo," and seemed beck- 
oning to our leafy abode. 

When oppressed with heat or weariness, 
Dalcour would ride slowly through the smooth 
alleys of his plantation. Sometimes, enter- 
ing the woods, we cut with sabres the hang- 
ing vines that hindered our course ; while our 
ponies gently bowed their heads to avoid the 
tangled luxuriance. 

To me, as to Idomen, every leaf, flower. and 
insect, was a page illuminated for my reading. 

The white blossoms of the coffee fields had 
dropped from their glossy wreathes, and ber 
lies were forming in their places. The sugar 
cane was green and tender ; the sun was fierce- 
ly advancing towards its vertic height, and the 
earth was preparing: to hide herself from his 
glaaces in a mantle -of sparkling showers, 



214 IBQMEN* 

'. The hours of 'labour, nourishment and rec- 
reation, had passed in regular succession,, and 
1 went with Dalcour to. his flower -twined pi- 
azza, to pass a few moments in the coolness 
of night, before the hell sounded for repose. 
The moon was absent, and darkness hung over 
fhe^Miage. -■-..■ v - ^i; ; .v;-''-- ■ v 

"^ I -.looked through ^the^trees, ■ upon the .<b.eauti« 
fal sky, and saw what I thought an uncommon' 
number of those meteors called falling star s* 
r.;: -Dalcour returned - to the ■; hall with a small 
lantern of: crystal and silver^ /in .. which was 
^horning the pore spirits : M sugar : eane^ it was 
the light carried in his own-hand, to- the- woods, 
when he sought for the blossoms of the night ° 
flowering cereus. . / 

Holding on high this tasteful substitute for 
moonlight, :myMan4iostrwalked towards his 
faun-tain - (on ■ the dewy 'Bermuda - grass) and 
waving- it .gently? in .-the ■,air,. repeated with an 
anvil ing cadence " cocuya ' 5 

The white locks of the graceful old man ? 
attired in spotless linen, and surrounded by a 
circle' of ray s/from his-'lantern- of crystal and 
silver- ;; : hisfigure relieved by the darkness of 
night, and, amidst the foliage, his benign coun* 
tenance -raised: toward & the sky- — the whole 
'•combined seemed -something- -more" than . mor- 
tal j and something more than mortal they 
were, for a refined intelligence "enhanced and 
beautified 'every- -object '-surrounding Dalcour-. 



EPILOGUE., 215 

While glancing at this living picture, cari- 
osity for an instant, was suspended, but soon 
returned with renewed force when I saw those 
which had. seemed, to be meteors, drawing 
near to the person of my friend as if fraught 
with love and reason. 

They were. but winged insects, once proba- 
bly, worms upon the earth. Yet it is no fig- 
ure of Fancy to call them creatures of light. 

My protector took them as they descend- 
ed, and placed one upon my hand. It evinced 
no fears, and made no endeavor to escape, but 
crept slowly beneath the linen of my sleeve s 
as if delighted with the warmth' : of humanity, 

I placed two of these- creatures in an open 
vase of glass, with pieces of the tender sugar 
cane, and set them on a stand by my bed-side. 
Towards morning I awoke, and they were still 
luminous. I held my watch towards the vase, 
'and saw how the time had- advanced. A half 
finished copy of a poem of domen was'lying 
beneath my pillow, and I read by their light ma- 
ny verses. Holding the vase within the mus- 
lin enclosure of my couch, I felt that a sensi- 
ble warmth had emanated from the insects 
within it ; they came out and crept upon my 
arm, yet all night the vase had been open, and 
they had not attempted to lea¥e it. • Brilliant 
confiding creatures, you seemed' to trust and 
love me, and therefore 1 love you 'again!— - 
'Let those who will study your natures ;■ I speak 
only of what 1 saw of you. 



216 IDOMEN* \ 

The regular hours of my protecting fiiend, 
Ms light but nourishing table — his affection-* 
- ate conversation,, and, above all, the interest 
he took in my pursuits and welfare, had com- 
bined in restoring me. to health. 
• Educated for the church of Luther^ and at 
the same time fascinated by the charming -mu- 
ses o'fmy country, the hours that are claimed 
hy rest, s had given to the blandishments of 
Fancy. . My health had become enfeebled, and 
seemed as if lost forever. "To the warmth of 
this Island I was sent for its recovery, and my 
daily wants were supplied by the kindness of 
.#n absent brother.- 

Gently, but earnestly pressed, the little to 
be known of my Me n was confided to him who 
asked it % with the- truth even -of his Idomen*— 
A .promise of permanent assistance was the 
fruit .of my undisguised confidence. -Dalcour, 
ireflective and .delicate,- soon offered to give 
me such employ as might set aside the painfa!= 
•AessjOf r dependences -and increase Ms own hap- 
.pness in mine. 

, I had made sufficient progress in the lAn- 
;guage- of the rcopntry to converse' and under- 
••s.tand"the broken accents; of the negroes] and 
ill; them s; I began. -.the study of man in his natu- 
ral state- , The difference wrought by civili- 
'Xation between the greatest and; the meanest,'; 
.seenis at first- sight to be immense .; but the 
Jfcipgs 'of Eur opG| beneath canopies of silk and 



EPILOGUE. 217 

•gold, look always for their solace and happi- 
ness to the same throbs of the heart which are 
felt, with equal fullness, by the slave in his 
palm-covered hut, amid the fruits and perfumes 

of, Cuba. Nature, fair daughter of God, and 
■executrix always of his will, the heart chords 
of a prince and of a slave, give out, at thy powr 
•erful touch, the same notes of the music of 
bliss. ' \ ^ 

' The soldier, the sailor and \h&\ slave, are 
punished with touches of the thong, and tears 
flow for their sufferings. 

The stabs of scorn and contumely are giv- 
-en in the highest halls of liberty, but none!can 
look upon the heart which bleeds or gangrenes 
as it repels them ! 

1 composed short addresses in Castilian, 
pure, but simple as the soul infused through 
the jetty arteries that tinted the skins of my 
hearers. 

The Saturday of christians was the night of 
their weekly dances; drums of their own con- 
struction were placed on the lawn before their 
cottages with rude lyres, and flutes' of four 
motes* I repaired as the twilight was fading 
to the entrance of the aisle of bamboos, and 
■" ascended a pedestal of limestone erected near 
the second cluster* Wo negro was ordered 
v'to attend ; btif the white mayoral told his band 
that the senor Herman Albrecht would speak 
of things in that world to which men go when 

K 



£18 'JDOMEK* 

-they are dead. The/: curiosity of the savage ? 

and his veneration For that which is told but 
■u?i$een,eiT@ greater than even those of the.phi* 

iosopher* The ' dance for &■ while, was sus* 
pended ; and on this, :.atia 'ever jr.* time -when I 
spoke, my words .were ^eeeived^and remem- 
bered. " .f^- : 
i • The scene was impressive' arid singular.- In 
the 'deep archway near -the plantation, a .sable 
^audience: assembled^! ■ bverireyewas fixed, upon 
toy countenance f the" twilight had nearly de- 
parted, but the far perspective of the- high 
•pointed aisle of verdure' was- not entirely hid- 
.den with darkness 5 and cocuyas from time to 
time appeareiamiditslesser arches, like stars 
-falling from the thick 'shapely roof of trem- 
bling leaves. ■ 

But the vertlc rains were approaching ; and 
Dalcour.had found in. me, one. whom he dared 
trust to bring to him the child of Idomen. 

The 1 summer would be long enough to suf- 
•ferine to go to the St. Lawrence and return 
to -these shades, ere- the forests of the North 
cast aside their autumnal coveringo 
■'• ■;■ The most earnest entreaties had been made 
that the sickness and loss of his mother should 
"not be made -known to Arvon Burleigh ; and 
recent letters from Pharamond Lloyde. declar- 
f ed' that the boy knew not yet an event so dif-_ 
:iicult to conceal -from him* 1 was bid to wia 
'the love of the orphan, and to speak of my pro- ' 



EflEQGUE. 219 

tector as one who would be to him in place of 

paMnt and kindred. When his ifeelings are_; 
thus prepared, I am to mention the nature of 
Msfloss,' in" a ■ manner to leave; wpon his mind 
the hope of a restoration. 
.- ' A vessel will sail to-morrow 1 1 go with re- • 
liictance'ftonifth|f ; home of repose and benefit ■ 
eence. Heaven grant. that I bring ' safely, -a 
charge" so dear to myself arid to my own ben- 
efactor. These pages I leave behind me, to 
be kept in a cabinet of Porcelain, not far from 
the papers of Idomen* 

Thus finished what . appeared to be an oral 
narrative, : written down' when newly listened 
to | the name affixed was Herman; Albrecht.— 
This young German left "the- valley of 1£ urawl 
soon after the appearance : of cocnyas in th@ 
year 1827, On the same year, ..when the ■.•.'ber- 
ries, of the coffee trees were beginning-to. ;be 
red, he returned safely with the boy Arvom 
Burleigh, and was retained' as [his tutor,.: by 
Dalcour. He had lingered at the Falls of Ni^ 
agara, pursued the course of the -St. Lawrence, 
listened to the -songs of Canadian boatmen, 
and spoken with Pharamond -ami Ethelwald. 
The hand of the last was stillj sought m vain ; 
and when told of the fate^° Idomen, that white 
hand was raised to $* - . .al his countenance, 
and he .rushed sudd^^uoml'tli^^e^n^:'.'^ • 
those around him e His heart : was true anci 
gentle ; but the sorrows of the children of hap- 

r2 



■ $120' < IDOMEN. ;" 

piness are only as transient clouds that cros® 
lightly , in summer, a* firmament ■ of gold and 
azure. . - , ■ - ; . - .; . , •'.-. ■ .- .". 
- ..The, story of " Idom.en," with all that oe» 
currecL.previous to the departure of the young 
Lutheran, was arranged with some regularity, 
hut a few disjointed notes were all from which 
a sequel could he gathered. . Some of. these 
were ^by the-' same* hand as the principal .narra* 

other. ■ The hoj 'Arvon -Burleigh was brought 
from the snows of 'the Ladauanna,. to be bath- 
ed in- the warm rains of .Ctybk. 'Every com- 
mission of Daleour. had ' been faithfully per- 
formed j and every thing pat In train to amuse 
and Improve the mind. of the sensitive orphan* 
'Of- the son of Madame Burleigh Herman Ak. 

hrechi became' .the-friend, and. for some time, 
at le&Bt,. found, health and contentment beneath , 

the leafy roof of his. patron ; but recalled sud- 
denly to BaYarla, by a brother who had loyed 

and cherished Mm; : : a.poiigh copy. of his MS. 

was left, him in;; Cuba, . and translated -for me 

verbally^ into my own mother . tongue, by the. 

German friend of Dalcour. 
Some part of the -story must therefore have 

passed through four translations. 
-Madame'' Burleigh, as :it appears made her 

confessions, in -English-;- Dalcour- -wrote them- 

down.in'his beloved native. French; and -Her* 

man Albrecht has given the whole story s . in 

7 



EPILOGUE. 221 



the language of his country . My own yer- 

';&ibn ; i; : nfti | ist''- :: 'Be far inferior'; ip,- : ihe\:ies%j0T^t^%s-, 
igpnpine expressions of, the heaTt|-are> ; tl^iaine" ; 
: :ii||every idioni. ' 



k3 



NOTES. 

{ 1) Many of the most opulent inhabitants of the island 
of Cuba, send their children to Germany, for the purpo- 
ses of education, 

(2) This cavern., at a very short distance from the 
flourishing town of Matanzas, is seldom visited, because 
those in its neighborhood are intent only on their mep 
cantile avocations. Though it has never been entirely 
explored, many apartments of it have already "been en* 
tered. An intelligent geologist "Would ^nd, in it, much 
to admire* 

(3) On my first visit to the island of Cuba (in 1823)/ 
i was struck with the beauty of these hedges.: thej seem-* 
ed 5 as it were, a Wall of verdure^ at least five feet in 
thickness. The plantations where 1 saw them, were then 
new, and they were impervious even to light, by reason 
of leaves and blossoms. They were cut perfectly smooth 
at the height of about five feet, except that some trees, at 
equa-distances, Were suffered to shoot to their natural 
height. 

(4) This plant makes a pretty feofder for flower beds ; 
the stocks, of a light green, are very, ■succulent, en- 
tirely destitute of leaves, and surmounted by blossoms of 

a. deep red colony which particularly . attract the hum- 
ming bird. 

( 5) The h ealth of many foreigners Would be preserved , 
if they knew a little more of physiology, or the nature of 
their own systems. By taking a little: necessary repose* 

fcven the amount ot their industry would be rather in- 5 



•224 NOTES, 

creased than diminished. " None but dogs and foreign" 
ers are up at this hour/ 3 is a common adage among the* 
Spanish inhabitants of Cuba, while retiring, after their 
principal meal, for the purpose of a refreshing " siesta." 

(6) The virtue of hospitality still exists, in a great de- 
gree, among the plantations of Cuba. A party of travel- 
lers, though unknown to the proprietor, are often recei- 
ved and refreshed* ; 

■ i ■: 

(6) In those oysters which I have seen, the pearl was 
not perfectly White j but, perhaps;, might be bleached by 
some chemical preparation. 

(7) I cannot forbear dwelling 1 , for a moment, on the 
extreme beauty of the plain tain lekL When newly form- 
ed, it is so carefully rolledj by nature, so as to present the 
form of a spear. During the rainy season of 1840, a ne- 
gress unrolled one in my presence ; it was full five feet 
in length, and two feet and a half in breadth, and resem- 
bled silk of a beautiful green, striped with different shades 
of the same colour; while the central stem or supporter, 
rather less than three quarters of an inch in diameter, 
appeared like a slender wand of the finest polished ivory. 
When perfectly grown, however, these leaves unfold of 
themselves., and soon after break into strips. 

(8) On a. new plantation in Cuba, a man of taste may 
do almost every thing he chooses, in the way of natural 
■or rural embellishments. In' this particular the French 
stand pre-eminent. Those who toil for gold mty 3 usually 
die either before or soon after it is obtained ; while their 
quarrelling survivors seldom reflect enough on past bene- 
fits, to allow them even a tombstmc* 

(8) Nothing can be more curious and beautiful, than 
the natural caverns and grottos of Cuba. A Frenchman, 
near the "Cafetal Heftmla," (where the writer of this 

/ 



NOTES. 225 

ftote lately resided,) lived for many months in one of 
these natural shelters, Which situated, far up, on the side 
of a precipitous hill, Was almost an ekgamt dwelling. A 
projection of the rock formed the place for his bed; and 
a little way from the entrance, which was protected by a 
door of wild vines, stood a hand-mill for grinding his 
maize or Indian corn. In this place lived the planter, 
till his coffee trees were set,- his negroes, afterwards, 
had time, under his direction, to make another domicile. 
I saw the cave, while the stain of the smoke of his fire 
was still visible,' but it was afterwards destroyed, for the 
lime and limestone at its base. 

A grotto, not far from the same place, formed a perfect 
" Chapel of Nature ;" a concretion, shaped like a bap- 
tismal font, and always full of pure drops, was kept sup- 
plied by another concretion, which depended from the 
roof, and looked like an angel's head rudely sculptured. 
This last existed but two years ago, and probably still 
remains 5 being on the side of a rocky hill, in the midst 
of a tangled wood. 

I once visited a grotto in the same neighbourhood, but 
probably (as I recollect going, one afternoon with a party 
on horseback,) about three miles distant from the one 
last mentioned. This little natural abode, contained 
three apartments; some columns in it were so complete, 
as to seem made by art? while others were about half- 
formed j a slender cone or pyramid arose from the floor or 
base, while another of the same shape depended from the 
roof, with a drop as pure as dew at its extremity. An 
entire column was formed by the meeting of these two 
points. In one of the apartments was a soft soil, and a 
natural tank filled with the clearest filtered water. High 
pointed arches were filled with innumerable bats, which 
flew about with a humming sound as we entered with 
waxen tapers, because of the declining sun. 

We could not have found our way, either to. or from 
this grotto, (through the thick woods tangled with innu- 
merable vines,) except for the assistance of an intrepid 

k5 



2^6 NOTES. 

nverUtf, tst " adininistrador,** who had been a soldi ef 
under Napoleon ; he, (with a sabre, such as were gene« 
rally worn in Cuba at that time,) cut a path through the 
tendrils hanging 1 from the branches above, and the luxu- 
riant foliage beneath, which had almost shut up the nar* 
row path. Our horses were obliged to. proceed, with 
their riders bending closely oyer their; necks. The moon 
being at that time, invisible, we were compelled to be 
very careful- in thus malting our way back to our retreat. 
This last-mentioned grotto was seen by the Writer in the 
year 1824 j the other very recently- 

(9) It is unpleasant to observe the indifference with 
Which death is regarded, among the commercial inhabit 
tants of this w&i— "islands In the midst, however, of 
their blind indifference, events Frequently occur, which, 
in pathos, might Raffle the most romantic description, 

(10) Nothing can be more luxuriant than the blossom 
of this vine or ereepef / It bears a close resemblance to 
the passion flower,, "passa cerulea,** except that it is 
three times as large. The leaf of the plant is, however, 
entirely different, being broad and curled. 'A fruit, re- 3 
sembling the musk melon, is the product of these splen^ 
did flowers. , 

(32) See life of Petrarch, by a !ady» Hobhouse, in his 
notes to one of the cantos of/* Childe Harold,^ is a little 
offensive in doubting the Hatonism of Laura and her 
lover; but situated as both of .them were, no other MncE 
of attachment was possible. A contemporary said to 
Plato, who Was conversing on ideas, " I can see a iabh s 
but not the idea, of a table. 5 * Some there are, however^ 
who can see; the idea, no less than the material. Le 
Sage makes even Gil Bias understand the nature of such 
love as that of Petrarch; as evinced by a passage in his 
account of Donna Aurora de Guzman. A most beautiful 
conception of the power of soul over sense, exists in the 
« Atala" of M. de Chateaubriand, 



NOTES, ^27 

(13) See note the seventh of this work. 

(14) There is scarcely any beautiful design of flowers 
and shrubs, which may not be effected in Cuba. The 
rose is not a native of the country; but when brought 
from other climates, where it blooms but one month in 
the year, it will keep perpetually in blossom. From De-° 
cember, 1839, till May, 1841, I was actually supplied 
every morning from one favourite tree^ bearing small 
white roses. 

-' Continuation of a note at page ©0. 

The seed or germ of this curious plant, is said to be 
deposited by birds among the branches of some lofty tree* 
However that may be, filaments resembling a small brows 
cord are seen pendant from an immense height, growing 
every day longer and longer, till they reach the ground., 
where they take root. Other shoots, springing up, meet 
other depending filaments, and interlace themselves about 
the tree whence they sprung, until at last they entirely 
conceal and destroy it, forming of themselves, by means 
of it's support, an immense tree in its place ; when full 
grown, a dead trunk may generally be seen through in- 
terstices near its root; when half iformed about the other 
tree, which is still alive, I have heard it called,, in deri- 
sion, a a Scotchman embracing a Creole. 33 

(15) Many beautiful doves are natives of the woods of 
Cuba. I have seen them of the size of a fieldfare or ro- 
bin ; and the delicate little creatures utter the most plain- 
tive moan that it is possible to conceive of. 

(16) The tameness of the small lizard is very surpris- 
ing. When approached by a human : being it never at- 
tempts fo~move, but continues lapping the dew or stand-* 

lag perfectly stilly with a certain expression in its eyes 
which might seem to indicate reason,, There was oaee 5 



■228 NOTES. 

I am told; a superstition, which taught that the lizard 
was on certain occasions sent to warn persons of danger* 
The degree of heat that the negro can endure, is Tery 
astonishing. I have seen women take their little children 
to the cc secaderos," or coffee dryers, at the hottest season 
and hottest hours of the day ? where they would all sit and 
luxuriate in the sunbeams, though eggs might almost 
have been cooked on the plaster beneath them. 

(18) I have never, in Cuba s seen the slightest frost 5 
but there are some days in winter, when a little fire is 
grateful, although very few indulge in it except the ne- 
groes, 

(19) Great pains must he taker, in order to preserve 
papers in the West Indies; letters, engravings, and even 
hooks bound in hoards, are soon devoured "by the insects, 

(JO) In the year 1831, (I .know not what may have 
been done since,) one inight stand ©n a rampart of Que- 
bec, and See plainly the last dwelling of civilized man in- 
tervening between himself and the North pole. Huts of 
the savages were, of course, scattered beyond. My at- 
tention to this circumstance, was directed by a gentle- 
manfn, the profession and practice of law, who had lived 
in Canada fifty years in matrimony with the same lady. 

, (21) Tin is a common covering for house tops and 
spires of churches in Canada,, where it neither rusts nor 
corrodes* 

(22) See note 20. 

(23) The snow in Canada is often s© deep, as to cover 
the walls\ and fences of every common inelosure. On 
such occasions, the roads ar.e marked out by branches of 
evergreen. 



NOTES. %%% 

(M) No beings on earth can possibly lead lives more 
blameless, than the Catholic fathers in Canada. The di- 
rector of the seminary alluded to, was accustomed to pro- 
nounce weekly homilies to the youth under his care, to- 
gether with a large assemblage of neighbouring villagers.,, 
and tears would often stream from his eyes while endea- 
vouring to impress upon them the truths of his religion. 
The Roman church is truly said to be., above all others,, 
favourable to taste. Even in this remote place, the cha- 
pel, was adorned with many pictures, some of them very 
beautiful. The superior, however., was an accomplished 
man, who had fled from France during the massacres of 
the revolution. Children from Protestant families were 
admitted at this seminary for the purpose of education ; 
where the severest punishment they ever received was 
that of being, after a fault, compelled to kiss the earth* 

(25) In moments- like the one depicted, there is some- 
thing very inexplicable. When parting from a covjitry, 

with a strong probability of never returning, I have felt 
so happy ia the immediate presence of esteemed' persons,, 
as to make iy impossible to realise that we haply might 
never meet again, and surely never again under the same 
circumstances. The many things which ought to be said 
are banished by the vague illusion of another meeting r 
but when the parting is over, and the fair opportunity 
past, then comes the torment : we think of what might 
have been, and could almost tear ourselves to pieces for 
our own folly and fbrgetfulness* 

(26) In the whole extent of the Western hemisphere, 
there is> perhaps, no place where ean be found grades of 
civilization more entirely opposite to each other.' Three 
daughters of the Duke of Richmond were once seen, in 
the "height of their beauty and refinement, looking from 
the window of their own drawing room upon the female 
savage who crossed the St. Lawrence in a canoe of bark,, 
so small as to be tied about her waist. By this contri- 



^30 NOTES. 

* 

vaace the Indian girls can right their frail vessels when 
upset, 

'(27) See direction, to the end of the volume at page 
195. If I should trust my fascinated hjc, — the attention 
of the reader is also called to the meaning of this line. It- 
is said, that at the "brink of any great precipice, there ir. 
a certain mysterious influence, which tempts to a nearer 
and nearer approach, till death is inevitable, I know not 
whether this belief be or be not founded in truth: as for 
myself, I never, 'when near "such places, could 'stand at 
all, and have always been obliged to resort to a kneeling 
or sitting posture. 

Page 202. See the description, of groups in a steam- 
boat; from Havana to Matanzas, in the year 1828 D Jut 
Irish gentleman, who was present at the scene depicted, 
eaici it was a happin&sab in heaps/' In the New World, 
however, the passion fir change is s© intense that nothing: 
remains very long. Tlje steamboats on the nailh of Cub- 
(have now lost the oriental character of their appearance, 
and assimilate to those of the northern republic. 

(26) Those who go to the island of Cuba for health, 
ean only preserve it by living in a manner similar to that 
of.Balcour. Excess, either in toil, exercise, ox diet, are 
dangerous in every climate ; and in the tropics, they are 
very soor\ fatal. Imprudence, impatience for gain, and a 
want of that knowledge of his own system which is ne~ 
cessary to every human being, are the causes ©f more 
^is than even the fever of the country. 



Page 215. . The description of the eoc.uya f as found 
here, is by no means exaggerated? its accourt of their 
qualities and manners, (if I may use the expression,) .is 
mere matter . of fact. Persons, however, may remain 
manyinonths in the island, without seeing one of these 
insects, as they appear only at the beginning of the rainy 
-season. I -once succeeded in bringing twenty of them 



alive to the north of America, ■where they. lived three 
weeks after my arrival j the voyage, also, was twenty- 
one days long. During these six weeks the insects de- 
voured large quantities of tender sugar cane, cut fresh 
from the field for their support. At sea, [ they lay in a 
sort of sleep or torpor ; hut when immersed, every day, 
in a vase of blood-warm water, (as is mcessary, always 
for their preservation,) they became, for a time,, resusci- 
tated and active, and would emit. a brilliant phosphoric 
light. When sleeping, however, the sailors thought of 
them merely as " ugly black bugs, with two dim yellow 
eyes." They have, however, black eyes, besides two 
yellow spots on each side of the head, which are not or- 
gans of sight, but which emit an astonishing brilliancy 
when the creature takes its evening excursions. The 
principal light, however, is emitted from their breast, 
which they open with a snapping noise while flying.— 
Forty of them died on the voyage^ and twenty lived, as 
has been said, three' weeks after, when the sugar cane 
upon which they feci "became. sour. Hoaey and common 
sugar was presented in its place, "but they died one by 
one. Their warmth, tameness, and apparent love of hu- 
man beings, are things worthy of remark. 

I cannot close this volume without noting some of my 
personal observations on the most useful tree of the coun- 
try of the scene of the story of Idomen. The palm tree 
of Cuba is not like the date or the Guinea palm, neither, 
probably, like that palm tree to which Herodotus ascribes 
three hundred and sixty-jive different uses $ it is, however, 
a great natural curiosity. One large leaf, or branch, 
falls regularly every month of the year, leaving a ring 
around the trunk of the tree, by which its age may be 
computed* I have never studied the botany of the tro- 
pics, and speak only of what particularly :arrested my at- 
tention during walks, for more than a year, in a long 
avenue planted alternately with palm and orange lrees s 
with shrubs and flowers planted between. 



5232 NOTES . 

To the leaf or branch which falls monthly, is attached 
a slip of bark, or something like itj of' a vivid green 
without, within as white as unsoiled satin. This slip, 
oeing five or six feet in length and three or four in breadth, 
is useful for many purposes. Tacked together with some 
of the strong fibres of the parent tree 8 ,, they make an ex- 
cellent carpet for the floor of a grotto or any other rude 
dwelling; they also make a very good mat. The negroes., 
when they sleep upon the ground, often envelope them- 
selves in these natural coverings ; they also sometimes 
cut them into sandals and hind them on their feet, after 
the manner of the ancient nations. ! 

When a number of these trees are 'planted together, 
they do not aE blossom at the same time. I have obser- 
ved them during the whole rainy season, and seen a few 
in flower at different intervals. ^Two or three large clus- 
ters of small blossoms appear just beneath the tuft of 
leaves or branches, and generally, where I lived, were 
covered with wild bees. A' heap of fallen petals lay at 
the foot of the trees in blossom, and the murmur of the 
Insects getting honey, called one 3 s attention to the sum- 
mit. 

The palm trees of the avenue already mentioned, had 
gained a height of forty feet from the ground to the tuft 
of foliage, and every month added a ring of four or five 
inehes to their altitude. 

The number of their leaves or branches corresponds to 
that of the months of : the year; one must not, however, 
count the leaf ready to fall, nor the two new ones which 
are always seen springing out. 

The leaf or branch which falls every month, seems a 
natural provision for the covering of the roofs of cotta- 
ges ; -the berries produced from the blossoms serve as food 
for many domestic animals. ; and the stems of these clus- 
ters of berries are used, without any preparation, as 
brooms for the' purpose of cleanliness* Except my' own 
■apartments, these brooms were used throughout 'the 
house where I lived. 



NOTES. 233 

The trunk of the palm tree being hollow, the woodpec- 
ker delights to make his nest in it. I have been pleased 
with seeing the pretty , head of this bird through a little 
aperture, as he threw out chaff from the dwelling he had 
shaped within. 

After peeling off the leaves or branches of a palm free, 
as is sometimes done, one by one, there appears a sub- 
stance formed of incipient leaves, but as white as ivory 
cut for miniature pictures ; this, at table, is considered a 
great delicacy, when dressed with milk in the manner of 
artichokes. It is a luxury, however, which can only be 
had in wild places; for after taking away this heart of 
its foliage, the whole tree is said to die. Palm leaf hats 
are known as an article of commerce; and many Creoles., 
both white and black, are taught in their infancy to make 
them. 

Page 195. 

An eagle rests upon the wind^s sweet breath ! 
Feels he the charm ? woos he, ike scene beneath ? 

Those travellers who saw ;4lie falls of Niagara while 
the country about them was still a perfect wilderness, 
have said that many birds, and sometimes even eagles^ 
would sail, as it were, upon the current of air, until re- 
treat was impossible. 

Since the falls have become a fashionable resort, wild 
animals, of course, have most of them deserted the place ; 
water fowl, however, axe now not very unfrequently de- 
ceived by the smoothness of the current, and perish in 
the manner of the swan described on the page mentioned. 
With solitary birds of the air, it also might once have 
been the case. Dr. Goldsmith observes, that on some of 
the stupendous cliffs of Norway, the numerous birds are 
so unaccustomed -to the sight of man, that they know not 
his power to hurt them, and suffer themselves to be taken 
with the hand -, even birds, however, are Soon taught by 
experience to fly from danger, M. de Chateaubriand^ 
IC6 



^■234- NOTES. 

description of the eataract of Niagara and of the river 
Mississippi or "Mechacehe/ 5 while both were untouched 
by any hand save that of Nature., is :fine, perhaps., as any 
thing of the'kind ever written 



i i 



ERRATA. 



Page It, line 6 from top, for flower and leaves, read 
flowers and leaves,, 

Page 14 s line 8 from bottom, for letres read letftres. 

Page 20, line 8 from top., for To a German, lead Ira a 
German. 

Page 20, line 10 from top, for thire, &c. read this: retreat. 

Page 25, line 6 from top, for and disclosed, read disclos- 
ing. 

Page 25, line 8 from top, for oyster., read shell. 

Page 25, line 7 from bottom, for the evening ms finished, 
read the evening was soon finished. 

Page 27, line 13 from top, for or tranquillity., read or her 
tranquillity. • * 

Page 44, line 14 from bottom, for pleasure, read leisure* 

Page 46, line IS from top, for pending, read impending* 

Page 47, line 2 from bottom, for shrank, read shrank. 

Page 58, line 15 from bottom, for dispersed, reswl dispen- 
sed. 

Page 56, line VI from bottom, for circumstances, read cir- 
cumstance. 

Page 68, lines 1 and 2 from bottom*, for In! the. twilight, 
read At the decline ofJhe sun. 

Page 75, line 16 from top, for one small silkea, &e» read 
me silken, &c. * *■. «*/ 

Page J8, line 6 from hot torn, for iananane, read" Zaiia- 
naui. 

Page 80, line 8 from top 5 for awakened to me, read awa- 
kened in me. 

Page 88, line 3 from top, for Ms seminary, read the semi- 
nary. 
Page 97, line 12 from top s for who crossed, fead- who Ao<2 

■ crossed, 



~ t 236- 

Page .157, line 1 from bottom, for chie, read chief. . 
Page-- 157, line 8 from bottom, for in world, read in a 

world, ':*.'. 

Page 183, line 2 from bottom, for steamed, read stormed. 
We regret extremely this mistake, as it spoils a pas- 
sage which, had been commended by persons of taste. 

Page 185, line 9 from bottom, for fruits of flowers, read 
fruits and flowers. 

Page 185, line 7 from bottom, for viewest, read mew-st. 

Page 195, line -9 from bottom, for all 'the world, read ;M|f 
the world. 

Page 212, line '3 from bottom, for rode, read I rode. 

Pa;|e";216, "line ''9 from iop 5 for had given, r read KI& tern 
"•/given. • v " * '•' ■ / ' .